Lost: The Forbidden Memories
by DarknessAngel013
Summary: THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO THE DRAGON'S LION! After having her memory stripped away, Hermione is vulnerable. She only trusts Draco and he is trying everything in his power to help her. Will his love and hers in return be enough to bring back the forgotten?
1. Prologue: The Day After

The Day After

"_Is that my name?"_

**6 hours after the Incident**

The true meaning of that sentence hadn't hit him this morning. He had been so naïve. He had watched her with tearful eyes as her clouded gaze swept over the room. He had realized, of course, that her memory had been suppressed beneath layers of poison induced haze, but had not really grasped at the thought until **they **had come in.

Harry James Potter and Ronald Arthur Weasley had entered the infirmary at approximately 3 p.m. and Draco's heart broke the minute she recognized them.

"Harry Potter! Ronald Weasley!" she cried.

They moved closer to embrace her, but something stalled them. He hadn't caught exactly what it was, but it had been something she said. He scowled, confused. He should have been paying more attention!

Then he heard her repeat it, minutes later.

"I know you from the newspapers! You're the boy hero and you're his best mate! It's absolutely splendid to meet you." She laughed. "I would tell you my name, but you seem to already know it. Besides, I don't really remember it all that much." She pouted then, but one look in the mirror made her laugh harder.

At that moment, his heart had clenched and reformed, bringing him back to painful reality. "Harry," he called, careful to not let years of hatred show. "Can I speak with you?"

Harry hesitated, malice in his gaze. "Why should I, Mal—"

Draco cut him off. "Please, Harry, it's Draco. We wouldn't want lovely Hermione thinking we hate each other all of a sudden." He clenched his fists. "So, can I please speak with you now? Alone?"

Harry's face blazed red in anger before he stepped forward. "I'll be back, you two." He looked pointedly at Ron. "Don't do anything stupid."

With that said, Harry exited the infirmary, Draco close at his heels. "What do you want, ferret?"

Draco scowled. "She's been poisoned."

Harry's eyes blazed. "Who did it?"

"My mum…"

Harry sputtered and cursed. "You do realize I'll kill her, don't you?" He stepped forward. He was a couple inches taller than Draco's 6'2" height. "And if you stand in the way—I'll kill you, without any hesitation, despite the feelings of friendship you and Hermione shared."

"No need to go all protective." Draco fumed. "My mum is dead—suicide…and that's not why I asked you here, Potter." He grabbed the taller boy's shirt collar. The muscles in his forearm twitched. "I think I know how to fix her." Harry's eyes lit up, but Draco was not finished. "And you're not going to like it at all."

Harry shook his head. "If it saves her, I'm sure I can deal with it."

"Even if it means letting her fall in love with a ferret?" Draco questioned.

Harry sighed, drooping his head. "If it saves her…I can deal with it." He repeated, not daring to look into Draco's questioning eyes.

"What about, Weasley?" Draco asked, already expecting the answer.

"He'll deal with it, or he'll lose her. It's simple." Harry's tone changed. "But if you hurt her in any way, or if this is just some sick joke, I will come after you, and even Fawkes will not be able to save you."

**6 hours later**

They had left hours ago, but Draco could still feel their presence in the dark Head's common room. Both of them had made the air in the room hostile. _Stupid Harry Potter and Mr. Red Riding Hood._ They had never stopped their relentless questioning and Hermione had been so flustered, while he had been merely annoyed.

Now the air had finally calmed and the inhabitants of Room 519 had finally settled into some semblance of peace. (A/N: Draco was born on the **5**th of June, 1980 and Hermione was born on the **19**th of September, 1979 **_bwahaha!_**)

Hermione sat next to him, curled in the corner of the couch, absorbed in a romance novel she had picked from her private collection. The title read: _Pride and Prejudice_: by Jane Austen. It seemed that she hadn't forgotten her habits or her likes and dislikes and she certainly hadn't forgotten about magic.

It was as if the people of her life had been erased from her memory, leaving behind only faded scars. He knew this because, even though she did not "know" him, she still felt extremely uncomfortable, and sometimes terrified, when Ron touched her. _Memories of their encounter yesterday…_The memory made him flinch. He had a sudden urge to protect her from some unseen evil.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he queried, breaking the awkward silence in the room. She glanced up at him with a smile, but it didn't reach her chocolate eyes.

"Were we in love, Draco?" The question sounded so innocent.

Draco's breath caught and then he let it out in a huge sigh of suffering. "No, Hermione, but I think we were getting there." He felt tears prick his eyes. He held them back, embarrassed by their existence.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Why?"

"You loved me, but I forgot you, like I hadn't even known you. It must hurt so badly." She scooted over, snuggling into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

He put his arms, tentatively, around her. "How do you know I loved you?"

She sighed. "Because I feel safe with you, Draco…" She opened her book again, showing him a sentence. He couldn't describe it. "Do you see?" she asked. "Love radiates off of every word in his sentence, yet it is not a proclamation."

He nodded. This Mr. Darcy certainly had a way with words.

"You are very much like him, Draco." She prodded, snuggling, if possible, even closer to him. "You say that I did not love you and do not admit that you love me. I know for a fact that one of them is false. You **did **and **do **love me." She said, with finality. "The question is: will we ever find out if the other was a lie?"

He was about to answer but something stopped him. _What if Hermione loved me? _The idea made the pain in his heart even more unbearable, so words were a loss to him. By the time he had composed himself enough to speak—Hermione had drifted off to the world of dreams.

He sighed and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, throwing it over the both of them. She sighed when the warmth enveloped her and Draco was met with a sense of peace as he too fell asleep.

**8 hours later**

Draco awoke to the sound of fists on wood. "Bloody hell," he moaned, rising from the warmth of Hermione's embrace. She moaned at the loss of contact and opened her eyes.

"Come back…" she whined, still delusional from sleep. "You were so warm…I'm so cold." She laughed at the absurdity of it. She made a heart with her thumbs and pointer fingers. "You complete me." This made her laugh harder, before exhaustion won out and the darkness claimed her fragile mind.

Draco yawned, aching for the warmth and the protection of sleep again. He growled then, remembering the horrid sound that had awoken him. He trudged to the oak door, pulling it open with a scowl.

"What do you want?" he snarled, not even looking at the visitor. That is, until the said visitor stepped on his sock-clad foot. "Bloody hell!" he wailed, looking down. He was met with an eyeful of red hair. "She-weasel?" he asked, still staring at the crown of her hair.

She glanced up, hazel eyes filled with tears. "Where is she, ferret?"

"Who?" he asked, already knowing the answer, but unwilling to let her know of Hermione's condition.

"My best friend! Pomfrey said you took her from the infirmary last night and brought her here. But instead of being in her room, she's in the common room, with you!" She spat, covering his naked chest with spittle. He groaned in disgust.

"She's sleeping. Come back later." He snarled.

"Wake her up then! I want to see her!" she fired back.

"It's bloody 5 in the morning, you she-devil! She needs to recover!" he growled.

"I don't care!" she answered.

"Some friend you are! She was sick, you blooming idiot! Leave her be!" he spat, nearly laughing when her face flamed.

That was before she broke into tears. "Some friend I am…" she moaned, before turning and barreling down the corridor. He nearly called after her, but he heard Hermione call out to him.

"Draco? Are you coming back?" She sounded desperate. "Because if you're not, I'm starting a fire. It's bloody freezing!" He could almost hear her teeth chattering.

"How about both?" he offered.

"Perfect," she answered. "But you get to make the fire. I'm horrid with matches."

**2 hours later**

_**HERMIONE GRANGER: POISONED**_

_Written by reporter, Belladonna Maltriev, of the Daily Prophet_

**_Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts and best friend to Harry Potter has been poisoned this morning by the estranged widow of Lucius Malfoy, one of the head Death Eaters who recently perished in Azkaban prison. Most know her as Narcissa Black Malfoy. _**

**_Her son, coincidentally, was also present at the scene but was there on Hermione's behalf. He was the only one protecting her. The highly respected nurse of Hogwarts, a Madame Pomfrey, was absent, but was seen in Hogsmeade later that day with a Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout. Hermione's recovery is coming along well but an anonymous source has claimed that the once loved Hermione has lost all memory of any people whom she may have known. It was suspected to be the use of the Forgetfulness potion mixed with deadly asphodel extract, but it is only a theory._**

_**We all have her in our hearts.**_

_**If you have any information, contact the Daily Prophet.**_

Everywhere in Wizarding London, people were intrigued at the unknown news, but in Room 519, the paper was met with a scowl and a toss to the garbage. Draco was not pleased. Gossip was a good motivator, yes, but not when he and those closest to him were involved. No…Draco was not pleased at all.

**------R & R-----**

This is sort of the prologue…Ha…sorry if I left you hanging on the prequel to this. I truly am. But, alas, it needed to be done.

(**_cries_**) Please review! I don't want people abandoning me!

I'll update soon, lovies!

-Darkness-


	2. Nightmares

Nightmares

_Gossip was a good motivator, yes, but not when he and those closest to him were involved. No…Draco was not pleased at all._

**10 a.m.**

**Dream---**_-Draco_

_She was here again—his beloved—tormenting him with "what ifs." He felt the pain of failure spur through him. _

_She was as beautiful as he remembered—before the pain and the poison—and she sat next to him on a beautiful beach, the sun high and golden above her, holding a child in her tanned arms. She smiled at him, her chocolate eyes sparkling with unabashed love and absolute adoration. He felt himself falling in love all over again. _

_"Love, you're dreaming again." She murmured, touching his arm. He started and then turned to her. The child looked up from its mother's arms. It was a girl—a beautiful, blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl—with her mother's spiral curls; and she was as pale as snow, just like the man she ogled. He gave a heart-wrenching sigh, not meeting Mina's gaze as he spoke. _

_"Mina, you know that this can never happen. Stop tormenting me with things I want…things I crave." He looked away and the child cried. He heard Mina's sobs and his heart broke, knowing he had caused them._

_"Daddy…" He glanced back abruptly, staring at the child with flaming eyes. Time seemed to stand still as he looked at her. "You don't have to go, Daddy." _

_Her words were far too coherent for a three year old to make. He must be delusional in this dream—but he couldn't look away. The little girl stood from her mother's frozen grasp and Draco steeled himself. Time had stopped. _

_"Daddy…you have to save momma," she wailed, grasping his arm. She was hyperventilating. He pulled her into his grasp. She quieted her breathing, but kept speaking. "You love momma, but the evil man needs her…and he's coming for her." She cried into his shirt and Draco chanced a glance at Mina. She was slumped over, her eyes white and lifeless. He paled, feeling the cold of death spread around him. He didn't dare look down. He knew the daughter he held was dead as well. Then he screamed—a horrible wail from the depths of his mortal soul._

Then, just like a dream should, the world faded, leaving Draco in reality, lounging on the couch, a real-life, breathing, Mina in his arms. He nearly fainted at the intensity of it all. He had had a vision—in the form of his three-year old daughter. He didn't even know her name, but his soul nearly shriveled at the thought of her death—of Mina's death.

His memories flew by in a blur, leaving his gasping for air. He saw Mina's eleven-year old form, smiling and gloating about her infinite knowledge; her twelve-year old form, petrified on the infirmary bed, the night he had snuck away to see her. He saw her thirteen-year old form, throwing a wild punch his way in murderous flame of anger; he saw her fourteen-year old form, clutching to Harry as he looked on, heart shattering, and water spurting from the Golden Boy's perfect mouth. He saw her fifteen-year old form, sneaking around, pretending nothing was different; he saw her last year, falling in love with Ron as he looked on in agony. And then he saw her beautiful, seventeen-year old self, her head in his lap.

When the reel of painful memories ceased, Draco shuddered, sweat rolling down his cheeks. He sat up, gently sliding out from underneath Mina's tired body, trying desperately not to wake her.

Successful with his attempt, Draco dragged himself into the bathroom and into the shower, making sure it was agonizingly cold. He shivered, yes, but the nightmare's effects finally dissipated, leaving Draco cold and empty like he had been last night and the day before. Scowling, he pulled his silk pajamas pants back on and exited the bathroom.

The newspaper article still sat, inconspicuous, on his night stand. He felt enraged by its very presence. He picked it up, glancing at the horrid article again and cursing his limited funding. He could have had this person killed if he had stayed on the path of darkness, now he could only glare at the offending parchment, feeling sorry for himself.

Pain laced through his heart and mind, clouding his perception of everything. He had chosen the right path, he realized. He had Mina with him again and he was no one's puppet—no one's assassin. He was not a murderer and he was not alone.

Tears welled up in his icy eyes. Loneliness was something he knew so well. Before his beloved Hermione, he had been alone---a lifeless shell roaming the earth in search of acceptance and belonging. He had found it under the wing of one Albus Dumbledore and in the heart of one Hermione Granger.

But his soul craved full, beautiful, unconditional love, and he could not have it. It was the one thing in this world money could not persuade or buy. It was the one thing Draco was forbidden to have. He was sure of it.

H0e had been so close to finding it, but his mother has snatched it away in one swipe of her debutante claw. Along with love, his beloved had almost been taken from him. The very soul that kept what little hope he had alive had almost been ripped away. It was cruel irony.

He had not made the sacrifice needed to have her. He had blindly followed the darker path, chasing her farther and farther away from his grasp. He should have followed his heart and instincts—his family be damned---sooner. Maybe then he would have earned his right to have what he so desired.

Draco pushed these feelings away. Self-pity would not save Hermione, and if what his vision had said was true, there was someone out there, ready to strike, and Draco would do absolutely anything he had to do to stop them.

His scowl firmly in place, Draco exited his suite, coming face to chest with Ginerva Molly Weasley. He balked. "What are you doing in here?" He queried, glancing over the shorter girl's head, making sure Hermione still slept. She didn't. His scowl deepened.

"Hermione let me in. She said you'd been up about an hour and she wanted to go to breakfast. I told her I'd walk her but she seemed set on _you _taking her." She raised one delicately carved, auburn eyebrow. "Rather odd, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "She must like me more than you."

Ginny's face flamed in indignation and Draco's well-practiced smirk fell into place. She glared up at him, intending to speak her mind, when a melodious voice fell upon them. Hermione had entered the hallway.

Her face brightened at the sight of Draco and she immediately attached herself to his arm. He nearly whooped in victory when Ginny's mouth fell agape. Instead, he opted to kiss Hermione's head. His beloved giggled at the gesture. Ginny's face greened.

"Well, Hermione, it seems I've been a little out of the loop. I could have sworn you were dating Ronald two days ago." She spat, with venom. Hermione gasped and backed away from Draco and Ginny, fearfully.

"I don't know what you're talking about…." She swallowed. "I couldn't have possibly been dating Ron…he's not exactly what I—" She stopped, glancing at Draco, briefly, before continuing. "He freaks me out, okay?" She wailed, clutching Draco's arm again.

Draco soothed her, rubbing his left hand down her back. Her fear quelled and she was able to continue. "Look—you seem nice and I probably was good friends with you, but I just don't remember you anymore. The only person I feel any connection to is Draco." At Ginny's look, Hermione sighed.

"I don't know why, and don't try to blame me or Draco for anything that's happened. If you want to know everything, I think Harry or Ron might be good people to ask. They know everything." She let go of him.

"Right now, though," she stepped forward, placing herself directly in front of him Ginny, "I'm terribly hungry." Then she grabbed Draco's outstretched arm and maneuvered her way out of the hall and out of Room 519, leaving Ginny to gaze, openmouthed, at their retreating forms.

Draco could have laughed out loud at the irony of it. Not so long ago, _he _had been the one neglected and Ginny had been the faithful friend Hermione had latched to. It was such cruel irony, in fact, that Draco relished that it wasn't pointed at him, but at a Miss Ginerva Weasley. He could have gloated.

Hermione noticed his happy smirk and smiled. She had inflated his great and terrible ego. For some reason, she felt proud of herself. "Draco," she called, snapping him away from his daydreams. He grimaced when he saw the classic "know-it-all" smirk grace her lips. "I don't like that girl much," she said. "Who is she?"

Draco stopped walking, staring at Hermione like she was a centaur with three heads. She glared at him. "What's your problem now? I just want to know who she is so I can avoid her in the future."

He shook his head in disbelief and grasped her shoulders. "You don't remember anything about her?" He queried, searching her chocolate eyes with his icy ones. She shook her head, her eyes tearing up.

"Was she important to me?" she asked, nearly sobbing.

"Yes," he answered. "She was your best girl-friend, I suppose. I don't know what you call them, but Harry claimed your title of best friend until the incident. I don't know where he stood after that."

"Incident?"

"Yes," he sighed. "You were put under a terrible curse and in terrible pain. I saved you when Harry and Ron abandoned you. You were furious with them." She nodded for him to continue. "When you woke up, Ron and Harry were with you. You guys got into a horrible fight and Ron wouldn't stop groping you, claiming you were his "property". You tried to get him to quit, but he wouldn't."

She nodded again, but this time with more feeling. He gazed at her. She looked up, her eyes aflame. "I remember…."

He jerked in surprise, tightening his grip on her shoulders. "You—what?" He looked into her beautiful eyes and saw recognition.

"Yes…Ron tried to rape me…and you—you stopped him from hurting me. You got into this horrible fist-fight in the infirmary. If Harry hadn't stopped you, you would have been caught." Her eyes bubbled over with tears. He pulled her to his chest. She sobbed. "That's all I remember….the pain of it all."

His face paled. He had caused her emotional harm and it burned him; burned him more than he could possibly comprehend. She looked up from his grasp, gazing into his cold expression with bravery and acceptance.

"Do not feel pain for me." She soothed, touching his face. "You make me remember and that is a great gift. You are not evil and you are not my enemy."

He suddenly felt himself falling. Blackness closed in on him and he could hear Hermione's terrified scream as he collapsed in her arms; but he could do nothing to stop the oblivion from claiming him.

**Dream----**_Draco_

_He was alone on the expansive beach, clutching a black ribbon. He didn't know why, but the ribbon held so many memories for him. He felt like crying out in despair and agony, but a chilling touch alerted him to the presence by his side. _

_He glanced out of the corner of his eye and was met with the face of his deceased mother, in all of her splendor. At least he thought she was his mother. But on closer inspection, he could see the fraying fabrics on an ancient wool dress and the strands of silver in her plaited hair. This woman was too old to be his mother. _

_He asked the most over-used question. "Who are you?" It felt cliché coming out of his mouth. He was, after all, in a dream. 'Who are you' was so common to say here. Another wave of sadness washed over him. _

_The woman spoke then, surrounding him in the melodious tone of a voice he was familiar with but had forgotten. 'Like a memory from a dream,' he thought. _

_"Draco," the woman soothed. "You must not grieve so. You have not lost the battle for your soul." She touched him again and he shivered. "The woman is the key to everything. Her soul holds a power only love can bring forth. She is not of this world, Draco. Her soul is older than her body shows." _

_He knew she spoke of Hermione. Sadness overwhelmed him again. Every breath he took was agony. "Leave me to grieve," he heard himself say. It was as if he was detached from this dream, floating around in hopeless oblivion. _

_"She is dead here, Draco! But not there—up there you can hold her in your arms and bring her to the light. Your souls call to each other, but even souls are impatient. The darkness calls to her more strongly than you or even your father. If you do not love her as you should---without grief or remorse---then you will lose her and the world will die." _

_"Who are you?" he wailed, thrusting himself into his dream body. The body shuddered and the woman smiled, showing off pristine teeth._

_"There you are, Draco. I knew you would come." She sighed. "In this world you are always grieving. I have so longed to see my little one smile again." She touched his face, but he could feel nothing._

_"Who are you?" he asked again, moving away from her ghostly touch. She looked at her feet, shuffling them back and forth in anxiety._

_"I am Belladonna Black—your grandmother." He nearly fainted in horror. This was his nana? _

_"Nana?" he breathed, trying to reach for her. She touched his face, motherly. He smiled. "I have missed you…" he murmured._

_"I know, little one." _

_"I'm sorry."_

_"It's not your fault. Your father could not see his error, so he eliminated the only one in his path. I was the stopping block between him and his beloved Dread Lord." She soothed. "You are my hope, Draco, and the spirit world is uneasy with my decision." _

_"What decision?" he echoed. _

_"To move time," she answered. "There is no hope for your love if you return to the upper world now, little one. We must make it so she never fell ill and she never was hurt. We will erase everything she has ever known."_

_He balked in anger. "No."_

_"You do not understand. It will be as if it never happened. **No one **will remember. It will be the beginning of your seventh year and you will all believe she is new…a transfer from the Wizarding Academy in Ireland. You will fall in love, just like you did when she was Hermione Granger, from England."_

_"She will still be Hermione?"_

_"In beliefs, soul, and blood, yes, but her accent may be a little strange," she said, nervously, trying to lighten the mood._

_"And what of me and my heinous background?" _

_"Lucius died in the first battle against Voldemort, holding my darling Cissy's hand. You were sent to live with Andromeda." She answered, grabbing his face in her hands. "Harry Potter will still have his godfather, but the scar will not erase. Lily and James will still be dead, just as you will still bear the burden of his hatred, but you will not have tried to kill Dumbledore. You will be innocent."_

_He laughed darkly. "An innocent Slytherin."_

_She laughed in response. "Yes…an innocent Slytherin." _

_She was already walking away from him. He called out after her. "Will I remember?" he asked. _

_"No, Draco, but your soul will never forget your Mina." _

_Shrouded in happiness, Draco fell, once again, into the black oblivion to await his new existence. _

**September 1st**

**8 a.m.**

The day was as dismal as every other day in London. It always rained here, it seemed, and Hermione couldn't stand it. Ireland had been so much prettier, and the sunshine had made her gloriously tan and had given her incentive to go out and run. Now, she had no incentive to go outside at all.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation when her grandmother called out to her, beckoning her into the kitchen. She seemed to be rolling her eyes a lot these days.

She could smell the bacon and eggs before she could see them and she unintentionally salivated. She was bloody hungry!

She jogged down the stairs, meeting her brother, Trevor, in the hall. They both stopped, glaring at each other. "Heathen," she barked.

"Witch," he retorted.

"I could turn you into a toad."

"I could make your nose bleed."

"I could castrate you with one word."

"I could tell every guy I know every one of your dirty little secrets, even my wizard friends." He spat, with finality.

"You don't know any wizards." She breathed, pushing him, before jogging down the rest of the stairs. She could hear him trudging along behind her.

"Morning, Gran," she began, snatching her plate from the counter. Her grandmother turned, snatching her plate away. Her stomach rumbled in protest. "Hey!" she growled, reaching for it. Her grandmother kept it out of her reach—barely.

Hermione was 5'10" now and towered over her grandmother, but her ability to do magic any time she pleased gave Gran an advantage. Hermione halted her attempts and sat down at the table. "Ok—I give up. Why are you trying to turn me into a 16 year-old version of Gandhi?"

Her mother snorted. "You sound like your grandfather." She quipped. "He always turns everything into a joke." Her voice hardened. "You don't have time for breakfast, hon. You need to dash off to Diagon Alley for your supplies and to pick up the broom we ordered for you." Hermione paled at the mention of the broom.

"Urr…Gran?" she began, fidgeting. "I don't like Quidditch. I much prefer running…on the ground." She finished.

Her grandmother's face fell. "Oh…I'm sorry, baby." She thought for a second. "Oh! You can take it back and get a kitty instead! You've always wanted one!" Hermione's face brightened, her smile matching her grandmother's in exuberance.

"Yes!" she cried, jumping up and running to the door. She called out, after she had exited the house: "Thanks, Gran!"

**10 a.m.**

His blonde hair sashayed in front of his vision, temporarily blinding him. People rushed around him, trying desperately to push their way to the front of the line. He growled in annoyance and left the shop, turning to stick his tongue at the place on his way out. He felt childish, but didn't particularly care. No one cared much about him anyway.

Of course, there was always Blaise and Nehemiah, but they were with their parents. His scowl deepened. No one liked him and he didn't have any interest in any of them anyway. Sure, the girls 'ooh'd' and 'aah'd' over him, but none of them ever caught his eye; they were always so full of themselves and gaudy with their flirtatiousness—it disgusted him.

The wind caught his hair again and the blindness caused him to knock into an oncoming person. They both collapsed with her landing on top of his sprawled body. His scowl deepened even further. He stood first, giving the person a hand up.

The person looked up and Draco nearly gasped. It was a girl—a very attractive girl. He felt his smile returning and felt blessed that he had inherited his Aunt's wondrous smile. He grinned and the girl blushed in return.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, offering his name. She blinked but there was no sign of resentment. He mentally calmed.

"Hermione Granger," she repeated the nicety, now smiling in nervousness. He extended his elbow and she took it.

"A pleasure to meet you." He glanced at her baggage, noticing the large assortment of quills, parchment, textbooks and a couple of sweaters. "New to London?"

"Nah," she answered and he noticed the familiar drawl of an Irish. It intrigued him and he felt comforted by her voice. "I lived here when I was a little with my Gran and Gramps, but this is the first I've been back since then." She finished, a minute later with—"I'm a transfer."

He nodded, more enthusiastic than he wanted. "Hogwarts?"

Her eyes flared in awe. "You're a wizard?"

"Yes," he nodded towards her packages. "And since you're carrying around such peculiar supplies, I guessed you were a witch."

She pulled the bags closed, utterly embarrassed. "I forgot to get something when I was in the Alley. Now I have to get back, but it seems I've gotten lost. I've already passed that shop four times." She pointed to the one he had stuck his tongue out at.

"Well then," he started. "Let me accompany you."

R & R

Questions? Comments?

Send them in a review!

-Darkness-


	3. Of Dresses and First Impressions

-1((A/N: Hermione is actually 17. She turns eighteen on September 13. I said she was 16))

Of Dresses and First Impressions

_She pulled the bags closed, utterly embarrassed. "I forgot to get something when I was in the Alley. Now I have to get back, but it seems I've gotten lost. I've already passed that shop four times." She pointed to the one he had stuck his tongue out at. _

_"Well then," he started. "Let me accompany you."_

**12 p.m. **

_Tonks (formally Malfoy) Manor in Wiltshire_

Andromeda Tonks, formerly a Black, was a sensible woman. She knew her place in the world, and she knew where her family stood in the eyes of the people around her. The Black family name was shrouded in intrigue, pain and deceit, and Narcissa's marriage to the late Lucius Malfoy had only complicated matters.

Besides being shackled with a fortune she didn't have the slightest idea how to manage, Andromeda and her husband had been given the Malfoy heir—her nephew. Draco Lucius Malfoy, besides being handsome and intelligent, had a beautiful soul, but his childhood had been harsh and unforgiving. Hatred had been thrust upon him at a young age and, even with his death-eater parents dead and gone, the hatred still shrouded his angelic soul in a deep darkness.

Andromeda's daughter, Nymphadora, had always been a carefree girl. But, despite her mischievous nature, she was brilliantly gifted. Intelligence poured from her work in school and she was a dedicated student. But none of this came to compare with her cousin's insatiable curiosity and unnatural brilliance.

Nymphadora had one thing Draco did not, though—she had social brilliance as well. Draco was a lonely boy—one who cowered from social situations—but he always stood his ground against those who harmed him. It was complicated. He was a natural leader, but he refused to let anyone near his heart. He led with a blind confidence, but without any true emotion.

This was why Andromeda nearly fainted when Draco came bursting through the door singing, with a skip in his step. "Aunt Andromeda!" He called, tossing himself into an armchair. "I've just had the best day of my life!"

Andromeda quickly rushed into the room, tugging on her unfinished braid of silver-streaked ebony hair. "What happened, Draco?"

"I've met a girl---a wonderful, spectacular, _magical _girl!" His eyes brightened, turning the dark grey to a shining silver-blue. "And she's a transfer to Hogwarts, as well."

Nymphadora took this sentence as her cue to enter. Her hair was a flaming orange today. "Wotcher, cousin." She greeted, throwing herself into an armchair. She was seven years older than Draco, and the slight laugh lines around her mouth gave that away. Besides that, Nymphadora could pass as a 16 year old. "Would you mind repeating that? You said you met a girl?"

Draco gave an impatient sigh. "Yes, Tonks, I did." Andromeda tutted at him for the use of the nickname. He merely smirked, as her always did. "Her name is Hermione Granger—from Ireland. She transferred from the Wizarding Academy there. She's the top student in her class and a good athlete too—though she's deathly afraid of heights. She also happens to be the most beautiful girl I have ever met."

Tonks' hair turned to a vibrant pink as her mind whirled. Her cousin had found his first Lady Love! She grinned at the idea. "Spectacular, Draco! You should invite her over for the next holiday!"

Andromeda shot a sharp glare at her daughter. "Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves, Nymphadora?" Her daughter's hair retreated to a dull orange at her discomfort.

Andromeda flashed a devilish grin. "I think that the best thing to do is for you two to become friends first, Draco. If she's still your leading lady come Christmas, she's welcome to come. We're having the annual ball and I would be happy to give her all of the money she wants so she can find her dream dress." She turned her piercing gaze to Draco. "That is—if you behave, Draco Malfoy."

Draco gulped rather loudly and scooted farther back on the couch and away from his Aunt. "Yes, Aunt Andromeda."

"Good." She smoothed her gown. "Now—I must find that husband of mine so he can get ready for our trip to the train. You're going off to your seventh year—this should be the most spectacular yet." Then, in a flurry of skirts, Andromeda left the room. Draco could faintly hear her bellowing for Ted, her muggle husband, after the door slammed shut.

He sighed and stood from the couch. "Coming, Tonks?" He queried, extending his hand. She grumbled about spoiled gentlemen before taking it. "A spoiled gentleman, cousin? Now that's one I've never heard."

Her only response was to jab him in his ribs and apparate away. He growled and then, he too, exited the room, his silver cloak billowing behind him. Leave it to Tonks to spoil his good mood.

**12:30 p.m.**

_London_

After leaving Draco at his estate, Hermione had ran all the way back to the train. She couldn't even remember why she had offered to accompany him back home, seeing as he lived in the countryside—in Wiltshire. Now she was going to be late to pick up her new dress from Madame Malkin's.

It was a beautiful dress—white and strapless with a tapered waist, embroidered with roses and a knee-length skirt that was loose around her legs—and she had bought white cork heels to accompany it.

A pen pal of hers—one who called herself "The Phoenix Feather"-had told her of her need for a dress. When inquiring why, she had merely said that there was to be an opening ball, in honor of the victory of the Order of the Phoenix the year before.

It was a masquerade, semi-formal ordeal, which is why Hermione had chosen the shorter length and simpler design for her outfit. Her mask was a the same white and had embroidered white roses on it and came with two matching white gold chopsticks for her hair. She was thrilled about the entire ensemble.

Now, standing in front of Madame Malkin's, nervousness had beguiled her senses. She didn't know if her outfit was formal enough—or too formal. She fingered her eternity pendant around her neck, before mustering up enough courage to enter. Madame Malkin's assistant—his tag said Antony—immediately migrated in her direction.

"Oh, darling, you must be the one." He crooned. In her mind she laughed. This man was a poof, and not a shy one at that. _But, _she admitted to herself, _they do give the best fashion advice._

"The one?" she asked, innocently. He grinned, showing off a beautiful set of pearly whites. Her parents would have been proud. They had been exceptional dentists, before the accident last year.

"The one that ordered the white ensemble with the beautiful lace! You will look positively stunning!" He waved a hand in front of his face in a fanning motion. "I wish I had your figure."

Before Hermione could comment, Madame Malkin greeted her. "Hermione, dear, how good of you to be early. It saves time." Hermione flushed. She _had _been early, despite the unpleasant gnawing that had screamed she was late.

"I wanted to gather my dress as soon as possible. I also have to run and pick up my new cat from the Magical Menagerie."

"Good, good…" Malkin muttered, as she flitted around the shop, straightening the rows shelves. "Antony, go and fetch me Miss Hermione's parcel." He looked reluctant to leave. "Now, before I fire you."

He yelped as if wounded and hurried away into the backroom. Hermione stifled a rude, girlish, giggle as she watched him go. Madame Malkin looked as if she were doing the same. "He is….nice." Hermione began.

Madame Malkin nodded once. "He is one of the best, they say. Hired him right under little Twillfit's nose. Antony brings in loads of business, especially from the pureblood socialites. Why, just last week we had a visit from Andromeda Tonks and her young nephew, Draco. They were picking out his dress robes for the year." She laughed lightly. "I think that boy walked out with four pair."

Hermione smiled, picturing her new friend loaded down with parcels or clothing. "I know him, actually, and I could picture him doing just that."

Madame Malkin suddenly resembled a heart-attack victim. "You know him, dear?" She put a hand to her breast.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "Is that a problem?" She fiddled with her ring again, in nervousness. Madame Malkin smiled warmly at her.

"No, dear, but it's rather surprising. That boy was tortured as a child and doesn't make friends with anyone. Andromeda and Ted saved him years ago, but he's still scarred."

Hermione was puzzled. "He was very open with me."

Madame Malkin's eyes danced. "Then you've got a chance, dear."

"A chance for what?"

"To heal him." She touched Hermione's face. "He sees something in you--something beautiful; something great—and you need to cling to that. It's good for the both of you."

"Something beautiful," Hermione murmured. How could he see something beautiful in her? She was a bookworm from Ireland—with brown curls that frizzed and a less-than-perfect physique. What could he see that she couldn't?

"Yes, dear." Her eyes followed Antony as he reentered the room. He was cradling her parcel and several others. Hermione's mouth gaped.

He strutted up to her and handed them into her open arms. "This," he pointed to one of the unknown boxes, "is make-up from Paris. This," he pointed to another one, "is hair-straightening oil and the charm for it. This," he pointed to the final unknown box, "is a special gift for you." She reached for it to open it. He slapped her hand in annoyance.

"Do not open it until the night of the dance, darling. It has a magical quality that only responds the first time the box is opened." Her eyebrows raised. He chuckled. "It will point out your perfect match, but only when you dance with him. After one day, the charm will die." He tilted her chin. "Good luck."

Then Antony disappeared again, leaving Hermione alone to pay for the various parcels. "How much?" she inquired.

"The same as we agreed on." Hermione gasped. "I cannot ask you to pay for these, dear. They are gifts from Antony. For you."

Hermione handed her the correct number of galleons then, before exiting the shop. Somehow, the beauty Draco had seen seemed a little more apparent now.

**4:00 p.m.**

_The Train Station_

Hermione was in a panic. She had absolutely no idea how to get onto Platform 9 and ¾. She was currently standing in the middle of platforms nine and ten and she still hadn't seen anyone but 20 or 30 muggles, all in various stages or urgency. Her grandmother had sent her with money and then had disappeared to care for her parents. _My parents, _she thought, exasperated. _How are they?_

In the year of the Light uprising, her parents had sheltered anyone that asked in Ireland; it had been an easy decision. She was the most intelligent witch of her age; thus, various respectable leaders had asked her to do research for them. This made Hermione a target -- and a hero. But Hermione had never suspected that her parents would become even bigger targets. They had been cursed, horridly, and were currently in extensive care at St. Mungo's. She doubted they'd even survive. So, in light of her parent's condition, her grandmother, Lynn, had taken her and her brother in.

Her grandmother was a witch, which was where Hermione had inherited her powers, apparently. But she was nowhere near as powerful as her granddaughter. Hermione found, more often than not, that she could manipulate objects and cast simple spells without her wand and without any magical discharge. Also, her memory was nearly photographic, giving her an advantage in almost every class. Every class except divination. Divination was guess-work, mostly, as was most of astronomy. She had never had interest in either of the subjects. Her loves were Ancient Runes, which required a lot of thinking, transfiguration--she had already mastered the animagi skill--and potions.

Deep in thought, Hermione had not noticed that she had been approached until he spoke to her. "Excuse me," the brown haired boy said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Are you lost?" A man with stubble and piercing eyes stood behind the boy. She recognized him instantly. He was Sirius Black--which made this boy in front of her Harry Potter. She mentally wailed.

"No," she said plainly, turning away from him. He, apparently, was not used to this reaction. He tapped her cardigan-covered shoulder.

"No need to be rude. Do you even know who I am?" He glowered at her, his emerald eyes alight with indignation.

"Harry James Potter, savior to the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. And a very pompous boy because of it." She turned her chocolate gaze back to him. "And the man behind you is Sirius Black, one of the most powerful wizards of the previous generations and your godfather." She blinked once, and then pursed her lips, as if daring him to challenge her. "And how did you know I wasn't a muggle? You could have given a poor unsuspecting teenager a heart attack."

He flushed. "Not very many muggles stand directly in between platforms nine and ten." He flashed an almost predatory grin. "So," he began, "who might you be?" He quirked an eyebrow. She grimaced.

"Hermione Jane Granger, the most intelligent witch of our generation. I helped you finish your previous job, Mr. Potter. I was the Irish woman that sent the information for the final three horcruxes, and it would do you good to stop flirting so openly with me. It's ghastly behavior for a 17 year old." Sirius snorted and placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. The younger boy's smile faded to a small sneer.

"So sorry to disturb you." He reached out his hand and she took it, smiling for the first time. His eyes gained their spark back. He shook her hand gently and then placed a kiss on her knuckles. She scowled.

"Now don't get ahead of yourself, Harry." She whispered. He nodded vigorously and grabbed her trunk, throwing it on his cart. "Now, where is this platform I'm looking for." He smiled and then, smiling, he ran right through the wall to her right, never missing a step or dropping their trunks. Sirius strutted after him, beckoning her to follow. She did, but she didn't notice the pair of silver-blue eyes watching after her.

Draco Malfoy stood 10 feet away from the platform, clutching, white-knuckled, to his trunk. Harry Bloody Potter had just spirited Hermione away into the land of gits. He scowled and proceeded onto the platform.

Andromeda and Ted waved goodbye and Tonks magicked some money into his wallet and a note that merely said: "Wotcher, cousin." His family loved him, that was sure, but they were the only ones. Hermione would never speak to him again if Harry filled her head with lies about him. He could be quite imaginative when provoked. He absently fingered the necklace box in his pocket. He had wanted to give this to her tonight--at the ball--but now his hopes were being squashed by an annoying, spoiled boy with ugly glasses. He scowled and walked faster, intent on catching up to them.

He did so, right before the boarded the train. He didn't speak, however, because they were having an interesting conversation. Hermione was actually turning down Wonder Boy's advances.

"Harry, stop pressuring me. I'm perfectly fine to find my own compartment. Besides, you need to meet your friends and I need to meet mine." Harry's gaze hardened.

"Your friends?" He queried, setting her trunk on the ground. The orange cat in her arms hissed angrily, swiping at any part of Harry it could reach. He dodged, receiving a few scratches as payment.

"Yes," she answered, glowering at him. "I have two here, thank you. Don't presume that you're the first person I've met here, Harry Potter." She spat, grabbing her trunk.

"Who are they?" He growled.

"Ginny Weasley," she answered. Draco grinned broadly. Ginny was his Blaise's girlfriend of almost three years. Hermione must have been her mysterious Irish pen pal. Harry only nodded once, acknowledging that he approved. He had to approve--Ginny was his best friend's sister.

"That it?" He ground out, his eyes searching hers for deceit. She merely lifted her chin and crackled her knuckles. She replied, quite proudly: "Draco Malfoy." Harry's eyes hardened and his mouth twitched. Hermione didn't back down.

"You're friends with Malfoy?" He spat, venom coating his choice words. She nodded proudly and turned on her heel, entering the train, leaving a fuming Harry behind her. Harry entered after her and Draco followed behind, careful not to draw attention to himself. He saw Hermione enter an empty compartment and moved to join her. But, his gentlemanly instincts kicking into full gear, he decided to track down Blaise and Ginny first and bring them with him.

He found them a few doors down, snogging furiously. He coughed loudly, getting Blaise's attention. Ginny looked up a few seconds later. Her eyes flashed in brief fury before she recognized him. Then she smiled. "Draco! How nice to see you!" She squealed, scooting over so Blaise could stand. He strutted to where Draco stood.

"Need something?" The black boy asked, smiling. Draco grinned in response and extended his hand. Blaise pulled him into a manly embrace, with only their right shoulders and arms touching and then let go.

"I want you two to move compartments. I have someone I want you to meet." Both of their eyebrows raised. Draco looked down at his feet, blushing furiously. "I think she may be the one."

Expecting them to laugh, Draco was surprised when Ginny embraced him fiercely, nearly crying. "Finally!" She cried, hugging him to her. Blaise snickered, but patted Draco on the back, proudly.

"Good job." When Ginny finally let go, Blaise continued. "Who is she? Anyone we know?" His gaze was friendly but calculating.

"You won't know her, Blaise, but Ginny will." He replied.

Ginny squealed, assaulting his eardrums with a painful abrasion of sound. He winced. "Who is she, Draco?!" She nearly bounced in excitement.

"Hermione Granger--your Irish pen pal."

Ginny nearly fainted and had to hold Draco in order to stay upright. "_The _Hermione Granger? I've been talking to _her _this entire time?" Draco chocked on air as Ginny paced around the compartment.

"Gin, you didn't know who you were talking to?"

She nodded her head in the negative. "We had nicknames, promising to reveal our true identities tonight at the ball. She called herself "The Irish Bookworm" and I called myself "The Phoenix Feather." She pointed to her flaming red hair. "It fit."

Draco laughed lightly before exiting the compartment, dragging his trunk. Like he knew they would, Blaise and Ginny followed him, dragging their own trunks along. When they reached Hermione's compartment, he wasn't surprised to see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley--and his girlfriend, Lavender--occupying it and arguing with her.

He pushed the down open, roughly and, after shrinking his trunk to pocket-size, sat down right next to Hermione. Ginny and Blaise followed his example and did the same--Blaise sitting next to him and Ginny pushing her brother out of the way to sit directly across from Hermione.

Hermione looked up and immediately smiled. "Draco!" She cried, hugging him to her. He returned the embrace but did not take his eyes off of Harry and Ron. But, the two boys were too busy tormenting Blaise and Ginny to take notice of his silent studying. He growled deep in his throat and removed himself from Hermione's grip.

"Potter, Weasel, stop bugging my friends." He looked pointedly at Hermione. "All of them." They took this as a threat and drew their wands; but Hermione was faster. Before they had even drawn them completely, she had flipped out hers and cast an "expelliarmus" on both of them. Her grin was one of triumph.

Her Irish accent flowed freely as she spoke. "Both of you," she looked at Harry and Ron, "better leave this compartment or I will have to hex off an important, but not vital, piece of your male anatomy. And I will not use a painless charm." They both paled and nodded.

She threw them their wands and opened the compartment door. "Good-day, boys. I'll be seeing you!" She called after them, smile still plastered on her face. Then she turned to her other visitors. "Draco," she said, but tripped over the other two. "And?"

Ginny spoke first. "Ginny Weasley." Hermione's smile never faulted. "Also known as "The Phoenix Feather" to you." She finished, and Hermione's smile grew in size and her eyes blazed.

Speaking of "Blazes", Blaise spoke next. "Blaise Zabini--best friend to Draco and girlfriend of Ginny here." Hermione beamed at him as well.

Draco grinned as well. "Aren't we just one happy family."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**R & R**

**-Darkness-**


	4. The Start of a Brilliant Year

(A/N: Greeting, readers. Well, I had another mistake. Harry's hair is actually black (if you even noticed my goof). Also, I'm going to post a link to the Black family tree on my profile. It's rather interesting. Did you know that Draco and Harry are related and so are Draco and Ron _and_ Neville? The list goes on an on. Anyways, back to the action.)

The Start of a Brilliant Year

The entire Great Hall was ablaze with candles and little faeries that twittered and fluttered amongst the tables and benches. Dumbledore was smiling, as was Minerva and, surprisingly, so was Severus. Then the first years entered, dragging their feet across the marble floor. People stopped, wherever they were, as they were all spread out every where. Draco looked up from his conversation with Blaise and Nehemiah to see a lone upperclassman approach the sorting hat—Hermione. The first years avoided her at all costs, and she looked extremely anxious and vulnerable.

She smiled when he caught her eye, even though she still approached the stool warily. Her impenetrable confidence had left her—leaving her helpless. He grimaced. She was worried about what House she would receive. He didn't blame her—it was a big deal. If she were to be put in Hufflepuff—which she wouldn't—she'd be considered bottom-of-the-barrel stupid; in Ravenclaw she'd be considered snobbish and highly intelligent—and prudish. If in Slytherin, she would be seen as a cunning thief or trickster; Gryffindor, and she would be considered the goody-two-shoe-save-the-world-type and would have to bow to the whims of Harry Potter—it was the Gryffindor code.

Nehemiah stole his attention. "Oi, Draco." The older boy asked, smoothing back his coppery shag from his face. It fell back again almost immediately, shielding his green/gold eyes from view. His mouth quirked into a smug grin. "She's cute," he commented, glancing at Hermione. "She might have to be my first conquest."

Draco glowered at his friend and clenched his fists—his knuckles going white with the force. "Nehemiah Anthony Carmichael! If you touch her, I swear to God, I don't care who your grandfather was, I will kill you." Nehemiah flinched.

Draco wasn't afraid of his older friend—he was a coward and a playboy, though most of the girls he seduced came willingly. He was considered the "handsomest" Slytherin, though Draco was the "most wanted" due to his money and Quidditch status. He, also, was incredibly good-looking, but more of in a "bad boy" way.

Nehemiah's grandfather had been Harvey Rigdebit—a Dragonologist who had caught the first Peruvian Vipertooth and established the largest dragon sanctuary in Romania. His mother, Bryn, and father, Nehemiah I, had moved to England after Harvey's death in 1973. 5 years later, Nehemiah was born, making Nehemiah two years older than Draco, but in the same year. Draco could have laughed out loud at that.

"You like her or something?"

Blaise snorted. "How many bloody times were you dropped as a baby, Carmichael?" He put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Our man is in love!"

Draco growled, shoving Blaise off of him. "Shut up, Blaise, before I knock your bloody teeth out." A girl next to Nehemiah snorted. "Got a problem, Greengrass?"

"Greengrass" flipped her choppy-cut blonde hair over her shoulder and glared at Draco with strange almost-purple eyes. Her pink lips formed a well practiced pout as Draco turned away from her. "It's Daphne, Draco."

"Daphne," he repeated. "Sounds like the perfect name for a little whore such as you," he spat. She flamed in indignation.

"I'm pure, you bezoar-brained ferret!"

"If I have a bezoar for a brain, then I'll stay uncontaminated, now won't I?"

"I hope your brain can save you from your beloved's mudblood contamination." She snarled, venomously, before turning away to talk to Pansy. Pansy looked up a minute later, her face screwed up in a disgusted glare.

His attention returned to the Sorting Ceremony at that moment, and he turned to see a small girl with white-blonde, curly hair underneath the sorting hat. She had bright-blue eyes that stared at him with a child's love. He blinked and the image didn't fade—everything else did. The girl stood and walked towards him.

"Do you remember me?" She asked, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He shook his head in the negative and rubbed at his eyes. "You're not seeing things. You're having a vision. A vision I have sent you."

"Who are you?" He managed to say.

"Ariella Belinda Malfoy." She replied.

"An ancestor of mine?"

"No. You're daughter."

He paled. "My daughter?"

"And mama's too, of course."

He took a gulp of air. "Who is your mother?"

She smiled. "I can't tell you." She stood, plopping herself into his lap. "But I can give you a hint! That's not against the rules!"

"O…k…" He said, brokenly, trying to hold in his gasps of pain as she bounced on his knee. Her smile grew.

"Do you know what my name means?"

"Ariella means "Lion"." He supplied.

She nodded. "And Belinda means "Serpent"." She finished.

"I don't understand…"

"You will. Draco."

He frowned. Since when do daughters call their fathers by their first names? He raised a hand to scold her.

"Draco?"

He halted his approach. That voice sounded entirely too masculine.

"_DRACO!" _

Reality came crashing back down on him, making the image of the Great hall reappear. Blaise was yelling in his ear. "Draco! You're about to miss Hermione's sorting, you dim-wit!"

Draco snapped his head up and watched as Hermione approached the sorting hat. She sat beneath it and it took it only seconds to respond with a loud bellow of…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco's heart hit the floor as the dream suddenly made sense. "Lion and Serpent." He whispered, putting his head in his hands. "Bloody hell…"

Cheers broke out at the Gryffindor table and the other houses groaned. Hermione had been wanted by everyone in that room. She was a hero—just like Harry. Now both of the heroes were in the same house, tilting their influence more than usual.

When Hermione sat down, Ginny immediately began talking to her, chatting about how they could share a room now, considering each seventh year only had to share a room with one other person…and so on. All of the chatter ceased when the Headmaster approached her, McGonnagal and Snape close behind.

"Miss Granger," he said. "It's my pleasure to inform you that your O.W.L. scores and overall scores have been calculated and you have the highest in this school. You have been appointed Head Girl."

Ginny squealed. "I thought Draco had the highest scores?"

"He did," Snape replied. "Until Miss Granger appeared."

McGonnagal nodded. "But it doesn't matter because he shall also receive his badge. He will be Head Boy."

Hermione groaned. "Hold on…what exactly does Head Girl entail?"

"You will have the highest authority below the teachers and will share your own common room with Mr. Malfoy. You two will be in charge of planning all school dances and trips and to chaperone the Hogsmeade trips." The Headmaster supplied, putting a gnarled hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Do you accept, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's mind was elsewhere—thinking of being able to see Draco whenever she pleased and having to be partnered with him for everything. It made her happy.

"Miss Granger?"

She snapped back. "Oh…sorry. What was the question?"

He chuckled. "Do you accept?"

Harry's eyes met hers and they were dark with insuppressible dislike and distrust. He wanted her to decline. She steeled her shoulders. "I accept."

The Headmaster clapped. "Excellent!" He turned to Severus. "If you would go and collect Mr. Malfoy, we can show our new Heads to their room. Then we can all get ready for tonight's ball." He smiled and extended a hand. She took it.

"Shall we, Miss Granger?"

She smiled. "Of course."

Snape appeared then, Draco following behind, a bright smile on his face. The Headmaster raised an eyebrow. "Why so happy, Draco?" He asked, calmly.

"No reason," Draco replied, keeping his eyes attuned to Hermione's face. She was beaming, her arm laced through Dumbledore's.

"Well then…" Dumbledore turned to McGonnagal and Severus. "Which one of you shall be escorting these two, then? It seems Argus needs my attention." All heads swiveled to see Filch limping into the Great hall, waving his arms like a mad man.

McGonnagal spoke. "I will, Albus." Snape nodded and walked back to the teacher's table, surveying the room as he went with cold, calculating eyes.

"Now then," McGonnagal said, putting a hand on each of the two teenager's backs. "Are you two acquainted with one another?"

Hermione and Draco both nodded. "Good," McGonnagal said, leading them up the stairs and to the left—all the way left—until they came to a tower. They scaled those stairs and came to gold and silver door that read room 513.

"Here's your room." She flicked her wand and the time appeared in glittering gold letters. It read 7:00. "The ball begins in one hour. I expect you two to be on time." She sighed. "Understood?

They nodded and she smiled. "Good! Now, for your password. The password is _Draconis Lea." _The two teens raised their eyebrows in amusement.

"Dragon's—" Draco started.

"Lioness?" Hermione finished.

McGonnagal's grin widened. "Been trained in Latin have we?"

Draco snorted. "My name is Draco. I know it means dragon."

Hermione laughed. "Leo is the most famous lion. Lea would mean his female counterpart—a lioness."

McGonnagal's face blossomed with color. "Well then." She turned away, utterly embarrassed and called over her shoulder, a few meters down the hall: "Be on time."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if _I'd _be late," she said, running her hands over the engravings on the door. "513…I wonder what the importance of that is…I mean, if it was _9_13 then it would…"

"Why?"

She blushed. "I was born on September 13th."

He nodded. "June 5th."

Her eyes widened and she squealed, "How clever!" When he quirked an eyebrow, she continued. "June 5th and September 13th! 513!" He shook his head, marveled by her enthusiastic attitude towards something so simple.

"Well, then—shall we?" He gestured to the door.

"Let's—together," she replied, hooking her arm through his. He couldn't stop the color that blossomed on his pale cheeks at the contact.

So, together, they said the words that would begin their lives—lives entwined by a chance meeting on a windy day—together. "Draconis Lea."

The door swung open, slowly and deliberately, and the candelabras in the hall behind the door lit with flame. They both gasped and entered, making their way down the thin hallway—which made them even closer to one another—and into the common room of the dorm.

The common room was done in maroon and silver, with gold and green accents littered throughout the room. There was a roaring fireplace, surrounded by a couch and two chairs. All of the wood in the room—the end-tables, coffee table, desks and dining are—was a deep cherry; almost black. Two portraits were hung above the fireplace—a sleeping lion and serpent entwined in one, and two lovers sitting on a beach with a small child in the woman's lap.

Draco's eyes were fixated on the latter. The little girl looked just like Ariella, and the man looked like him. The woman was turned away, but he could see the cascading honey curls that fell down her back. He was sure that was Hermione.

The real Hermione broke him from his stupor. "Draco? We need to get ready for the ball." She was standing next to him, rubbing her arm, awkwardly. He smiled.

"One thing first," he said, taking her hand in his—she had moved away right after they had entered the common room. "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball tonight, Hermione?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Of course, Draco, but this doesn't mean we're—" she let the sentence trail off, but he knew what she meant.

"No, it doesn't mean we're together. It just means I have the most beautiful date out of everyone in Hogwarts, or anywhere else in the world." She blushed.

"And I have the perfect gentleman for a date. And he's also devastatingly handsome." He flashed a predatory smile and her blush deepened. "Now, I have to go get ready if I'm to be good enough for you, Draco Malfoy." She said, twirling around a bit.

She then fled through a door on her right—one embezzled with a glittering silver lion—and shut it behind her. Draco went into his own room, through a door on his left—one embezzled with a glistening gold serpent—and shut it, too, behind him.

Hermione immediately pulled out her dress and put it on—after slipping into her strapless bra and white panties—then slipped her cork heels onto her slender feet. Then, mustering up a lot of courage, she opened two of Antony's gifts—the make-up and the hair supplies.

She put brown eyeliner on both of her lids and then added a silver shadow that made her dark eyes stand out like dark-embers in winter snow. She then added a little bronzer to her cheeks and a bit of mocha gloss to her lips. Satisfied, she made her way to the bathroom, checking to see if Draco had invaded, and, glad that he hadn't, locked the doors—both of them. She set up the supplies and grabbed her wand, reading the charm carefully. She muttered it soon after, and the brush in her hands glowed.

She gasped, lifting the brush to her face for inspection. But the brush reacted to her hair and propelled itself forward, smoothing out the bushy curls in her hair. But even that could not tame her hair—it rebelled and the brush shorted out, leaving Hermione with perfect, non-frizzy, honey ringlets. She grabbed the note Antony had left her.

_**Dear, Hermione**_

_**I hope this charm works brilliantly for you. It worked wonders on my sister Cecile. Her hair was, though, a lot different from yours, I'm afraid.**_

_**Darling, I only have a little bit of a warning for you…**_

_**If the brush shorts out—which it might—you're stuck with whatever hair it gives you. So, hopefully, it will give you a good, new style.**_

Hermione cursed. Antony had known it would short out. He wanted her hair _permanently _changed. Damn him. She read on.

_**As for the other gifts—there are absolutely no side effects. The ring—which is the surprise gift—was originally created so witches could find their true matches for marriage. When purity became important to the pure-blood wizards, they stopped using the rings, not wanting to know who the "could" have married. Quite sad, to be honest; but I managed to find this one in my mother's old things. It only works for females and considering I'm an only child and am only interested in the male species, I don't have anyone to pass it on to. **_

Hermione snorted. _Only interested in the male species…_ "I knew he was a poof."

_**Thus, upon seeing you and the dress you picked out, and upon hearing your touching tale about Mr. Malfoy, I decided to award you with this gift. I hope it makes your life memorable and full of love. **_

_**XOXO**_

_**Antony**_

She grinned and put the note back in the box, looking at herself in the mirror the whole time. The ringlets suited her just fine. She actually looked worthy of someone's affection, for the first time in her life. She smiled and then exited the bathroom, unlocking Draco's door as she closed hers.

When she was in her room, Hermione grabbed her matching chopsticks out of the dress box. She flipped her hair up into a curly, loose bun, and then jammed the chopsticks in, securing the hairstyle. Then, with a touch of excitement, she opened Antony's box and slipped the ring onto her finger. It glowed dimly before returning to its original emerald color. Hermione was finished.

Meanwhile, Draco was having difficulties. His cuffs were long and unbound, hanging over his hands. His silver dragon cufflinks were missing, and he was thoroughly peeved. Merlin's balls! Those cufflinks completed his blasted ensemble! He rifled through his boxes again and then through his suitcases. He barely noticed when someone knocked on his door.

He strutted over to the door and threw it open with a 'bang'. Behind it was Hermione, covered in a pale grey cloak, the hood over her head. All he could see were her silver-lined eyes.

"I didn't want you to see me yet." She said, "But I thought you might need these." She extended a hand and in it were his two dragon cufflinks. He gasped in awe.

"How did you—"

"They were in the bathroom, hidden behind one of your cologne bottles. I was looking for my perfume when I found them. I assume you need them, then?"

He looked down at his cuffs and scowled at them. "Most definitely."

Hermione dropped them into his palm and shut the door, leaving him alone to his business. Luckily, when she had come in, only his white dress shirt and his pants had been on. He hadn't even started, and boy was she in for a surprise.

**R & R**

-Darkness-


	5. The Forbidden and Forgotten

The Forbidden and Forgotten

She took another glance in the mirror and her heart fell. She turned away, clutching her hand into a white-knuckled fist. She was not worthy to stand by his side—he was far too perfect—she was far too ordinary. Her hair shimmered in the luminescent light her wand radiated and it made her look almost ethereal—but Hermione only saw the utter horror that she imagined herself being—the monster who had killed people.

She flinched in memory. Yes, she had killed. But why could she not say it to others? She had not killed in the name of glory—she had killed in the name of righteousness; of good. Then why did she feel so disgusting? Was it because she stood among the pure, shrouding them in her evil?

That thought was chased away. She knew nothing of Draco's past. People cowered from him—obeyed him—and the boy who everyone seemed to love hated Draco with a passion. What was behind his silver-eyed mask of indifference when he was around those who didn't trust him? At least, not like she did. She didn't even truly know why _she_ even trusted him. She had always been a distrustful person—always finding more about a person before placing her trust and heart at their command, but she had not even thought about that when she had met Draco. Why did she feel so attached to him—so attracted to him?

A horrible headache ripped her from her thoughts and Hermione plunged into the darkness of unconsciousness—a place where the truth awaited her, if she would only find her way to it.

Draco, on the other hand, was pacing. He was awake and alert, yes, but his mind and emotions were fuzzy—as if he had lost complete control. Why had his heart and his emotional walls forsaken him? Why had he fallen into this complete helplessness—devoting himself to another human being, when he knew that it was terribly wrong to do so? He was a Malfoy! His last name had haunted his existence since birth—the called him the "dark child", the "serpent", and most of all "the death-eater's prodigy." He did not deserve the love that could be found in one as pure as Hermione Granger.

But he knew nothing of Hermione Granger—not the true Hermione Granger. He only knew the imitation—the remake. But Draco did not know this—he believed her knew Hermione Granger—just like she believed she knew Draco Malfoy. But the Truth was harder to accept.

So Draco, too, fell into the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness, also seeking the truth. But it would take both of them to find it—and time was short.

The Plain of the Forgotten

_Mina stood in a plain—it seemed to be an endless plain of golden cornstalks. She thought she was alone, like she always, but, like a beacon from heaven, she glimpsed the body of a person fall to the ground. At least, she assumed it was a person. She ran towards them—her need for companionship fueling her to run faster. _

_When she reached him, she immediately collapsed next to him. It was Draco—her Draco. Mina was not an imitation—she was the original—the one who still held tight to the forbidden memories, as was her Draco—the man before her. "Draco! What took you so long?" He opened a brilliant silver eye. _

_"Hermione?" He said, in a faint whisper. _

_Mina looked at him quizzically. "You haven't called me Hermione in weeks. What's wrong with you?" And then she saw it—the darker tint to his eyes, the lack of scars—this Draco was an imitation. _

_"Why have you come here? Why have you left the world? Why have you left my imitation alone?!" She shook him and Draco winced. _

_"What are you talking about?" _

_She ran a hand through her hair. He blinked as her movement revealed scars and bruises everywhere. "What happened to you? You didn't have those this morning!"_

_Mina fingered her scars. "You are not in your world anymore, Draco. You have been pulled into the Forgotten—it is the place where the Originals go while their imitations make the necessary preparations for their return." _

_"Have you gone mad?"_

_Mina clenched her fists. "Try and touch me—my hand, my arm, anything you please." She stood rod-stiff as Draco stood and made his way to her side. He reached to brush her hand—and his pale hand met skin as cold as death. He jumped back, frightened. "You see? I am like the living dead, meant to stay here until my imitation—your Hermione—finds her connection to me," she bowed her head. "My love for you, Draco—for your Original; and you must find this connection as well, in order to be reunited with your Original." Draco stuttered something incoherent and spun around, already running. Mina didn't have the heart to follow him. _

_Instead, she sobbed, crying out for her Draco. "Please, Merlin, let him find a way. I cannot stand this loneliness any longer." _

_With Hermione_

_She awoke in a dark plain—barren of any plant life—of any life at all. She stood, stiffly, and glanced around—she was alone, it seemed, and her heart clenched painfully. Draco would worry about her—he would be in pain. She noticed that her hair was as curly as before she had straightened it and wondered what had happened to the rest of her attire. Surprisingly, her white dress was clean, as was all of her ensemble. Even her hands—with which she had touched the dusty earth—were spotless. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. _

_Then, suddenly, there a man in front of her, hugging her, kissing her hair. She pulled away in instinct and backed away. When she looked at him—she was met with the face of Draco, but he looked to be in pain, and he was filthy. The scenario clicked. _

_"I am in the Forgotten," she said, plainly, rubbing her hands together. "And you are not Draco Malfoy." He looked at her with a pained expression._

_"I was so sure…" he said, turning away. She watched as tears fell down his pace, making trails in the dust that marred his pale face. "But no," he said, flipping around to face her again, "I have to come face to face with her imitation!" He cursed rather loudly and stalked towards her. "Why are you here?" He stomped his foot. "My imitation was supposed to be near you at all costs!"_

_Her face blanked. "So you caused our attraction!"_

_Her smirked. "No, darling, not just me. Not only did Mina help, but you two did as well. We can't make you two like each other. We can only make you two have an urge to stay close to one another. You two did the rest."_

_"Mina is my—" She dropped off._

_"Imitation, darling."_

_"Stop calling me darling!" _

_He laughed, dark and dangerous. "Just like Mina." _

_"You're insane!" _

_"No," he said darkly, "But I'm close. You need to hurry up and find the connection." He turned around again and started to walk away, but Hermione stopped him. _

_"What is the connection?"_

_"Love," he said. "The Lion and the Serpent." Then he was gone and Hermione was left to wander to barren field of the Forgotten, alone._

…

_The two imitations met at the River Styx—or what is known in Greek as the river Styx—staring at each other from opposite banks. Draco was bathed in the ethereal glow of Mina's cornfield and Hermione was shrouded in the dark mist of Draco's wasteland. Upon seeing the boy she cared for, Hermione waded across the River Styx and clung to him, like a child to its mother. And then she cried. _

_"I thought I was never going to see you again!" She wailed, clutching at his shirt. "I was so frightened…and then the Original and he kissed me and I thought he was you, but he wasn't it and…Draco? Are you even listening?" _

_Draco was silently sobbing. "My God, Hermione, I thought you'd died. When I saw the Original, she looked so much like you, but she was so pale. I thought we had both died." _

_"It doesn't matter, Draco," Hermione said, with finality. "Because we're together now and alive; we're even clean!" _

_"But we'll never return to the land of the Living, Hermione—never." _

_"Yes you will," a voice answered, coming up to stand behind them. Hermione gasped as she stared into a pair of identical eyes to hers—Mina's eyes. But Mina looked away, her eyes brighter and tearful. "Draco!" _

_The two imitations turned around, following Mina's gaze. There, standing in the darkness of the wasteland, was Draco—the Original. He smiled when he saw Mina's exuberance and quickly made his way across the river, pulling Mina close to him, whispering sweet nothings into her chestnut curls. "Mina, I finally found you…"_

_"I know, Draco…it's been 17 years." _

_Hermione gasped. "You've been parted since I was born! Because of the connection! My God, it must have been horrible." _

_Mina smiled. "Yes, but now that you have saved us; we can finally be somewhat at peace. Unfortunately, we can only be fully at peace when you two find the connection and return us to our rightful bodies once more—bringing the Forbidden memories out into the open—sealing the void." _

_"The void?" _

_Hermione laughed. "You are just like me—so curious." She cleared her throat and Hermione swore she saw dust fly out from her parted lips. "The void is what occurs when one rips the threads of time—creating an imitation. From this void sprouts a darkness that is destructive and malevolent—creating creatures that people only wish to read about. Only when the connection is found, can time be sewn back together and the void sealed. This is why you two are so important." _

_Hermione sighed darkly. "But we are stuck here, because of you two." She laughed. "This all seems a little counter-productive." _

_Mina shook her head. "You are not stuck. Now that Draco and I are reunited, we have the power to send you back if you'll only take my hand." Hermione took her hand. "And if your Draco would take my Draco's hand." Hermione nearly laughed at that, but Mina's stern look told her otherwise. And the two Draco's clasped their hands together._

_"I, being the Original, send thee, the imitation, back to the land where my memories are forbidden—where the void has opened, unleashing its evil upon the living. I send thee in the name of all the fallen witches who have felt a love so dangerous that the void pales in comparison. I send thee in the name of the unrequited and the forsaken." Mina's voice was steady and clear and Hermione felt a warmth rise up through her body, filling her. _

_Draco spoke next, grasping harder onto his imitation's hand. "I, being the Original, send thee, the imitation, back to the land where memories are forbidden—where the void has opened, unleashing its evil upon the living. I send thee in the name of all the fallen wizards who have been cursed to be exempt from the pure and holy—exempt from love. I send thee in the name of the defeated and the Damned." Draco's low voice, mixed with Mina's beauteous humming and both imitations felt a tug at their bellybuttons—they felt their bodies lighten in weight and they soon found themselves—_

…

Spread eagle on the floor of their rooms, fully dressed, clean, with Hermione's hair straight and beautiful.

She stood up first, quickly grabbing her mask, her shoes, cloak, and slipped Antony's ring on her index finger. As she opened her bedroom door, she was met with the sight of Draco's spread eagle body—she had hit him in the face with said door.

"Draco!" She screeched, kneeling beside him. "You alright there?"

He blinked and she could practically see the stars that danced in his head. "Wotcher, beautiful. I don't think I've seen you around before."

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione stood, grabbed an ice bucket off of the counter of their private and dumped its contents on Draco's head. He shot up, sputtering. "Bloody hell! What in the blazes was that!? Bugger that was bloody freezing, Hermione! Are you trying to give me bloody pneumonia?"

Hermione giggled. "You curse extremely well, Draco, I must say."

"Bugger to you too."

She glared at him through pierced eyes. "Dust off and grab your jacket. We're due at the dance in 10." As she walked away, something occurred to her—like a memory from a dream. _The Lion and the Serpent…the connection…Love. _It whispered, taunting her mind. But she shrugged it off and grabbed her gray cloak, silently pondering why she had fainted.

They arrived at the dance exactly on time and immediately set about helping the house elves finish the decorating. Candles floated, magically, in the air above the tables and shimmering dust fell from the ceiling, but never touched anything. It just fell. A giant chandelier stuck out among the dust in the middle of the ceiling—it was white gold with yellow topaz, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires adorning it—the colors of the four houses. 10 minutes later people began to file into the room, dressed in beautiful outfits and delicate masks. They immediately started talking amongst each other, trying desperately to find out who everyone was.

Draco stood at her side—his blonde hair darkened by a charm and pulled back into a tight cue. He smiled, devilishly behind his black satin mask. "You think anyone will recognize me?" His normally silver eyes were cat-like and bronze.

"No, love, I suppose they won't." She had turned her own hair a cherry auburn and her white lace mask obscured the tell-tale freckles that lined her cheeks. She had discarded her cloak at the door and, instead, had donned a dazzling set of beads that wound around her upper-arms and shoulders—charmed to never slip. They were stunning—a vision in silver, black and white. No one recognized them—except for two.

"Granger, you've disappointed us." Harry said, coming to stand in front of her. His ebony robes flowed loosely around him, sashaying atop his dragon-hide boots. On his arm was one Parvati Patil—dressed to the nines in gold velour and silk—a horrid combination. Her hair was frizzed and curly and her make-up was overdone. Hermione thought she looked rather like an over-stuffed golden cow.

"What are you supposed to be, Parvati?"

"A phoenix," she replied. "And you?"

"An archangel," Hermione supplied, fiddling with Antony's ring on her finger. "Fallen from grace, of course—my date happens to be Lucifer."

Sure enough, Draco had put a charm on his nails to make them look claw-like and two black wings sprouted from the back of his all black tux. He had charmed to white wings onto her back, apparently, when she hadn't been looking.

Harry laughed. "Definitely fallen from grace if you've decided to slum with the like of him, Hermione." But she wasn't really paying attention to Harry because she felt someone's eyes on her—they belonged to Ron.

"Stop staring at me, Ronald." He blushed furiously, rubbing the arms of his deep purple robes. Lavender looked appalled that Ron had spared Hermione a glance and turned away, stalking off towards the refreshment, her black gown billowing behind her. "What are you two supposed to be?"

"Accolon and Morgan Le Fay," he whispered, looking away.

Hermione and Draco laughed. "You've consented to the man-slave of your beloved Lav-lav, huh Ronny-kins?" Draco said, smirking. Ron's face got red in indignation and he tromped away after Lavender, leaving Harry and Parvati alone with our two heroes.

"Granger, you disgust me."

"Must not be hard, considering you only prefer yourself, Potter," Hermione spat, getting entirely fed up with Harry's pompous attitude. "Now remove yourself from my sight before I dock points."

He narrowed his emerald eyes. "You can't dock points from your own house, you ruddy fool!"

Draco steeped forward, pinning Harry with an evil stare. "Back off, or I'll remove something you're a tad fond of, Potter." He said, with an attitude that spoke of violence and torture ahead. Harry backed up, dragging Parvati with him. His naive date caught Hermione's eyes as she went.

"Ill be seeing you, then, Hermione?" And then she was gone, lost in the crowd of students on the dance floor. Hermione sighed.

"Well _that _was wonderful."

"It'll get better, love."

"Yea," Hermione agreed, wrapping Draco's arms around her waist. He put his chin on the top of her head. "Life goes on, doesn't it?"

**R&R**

**Sorry I haven't really gotten to the Ball yet, but I needed you guys to have a little more back story before we got really into the whole romance end of it and the adventure. And I'm sorry to those of you who like Lavender and Parvati. I needed some extra characters that were easy to manipulate.**

**Ta ta, lovies!**

**-Darkness-**


	6. How to Fall in Love

How to Fall in Love

"Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be. "- Anton Chekhov

The tango is a dance of passion. We know this, without a doubt, because it requires both partners to have enough feeling for each other so they can put passion in every move they make—in every expression. Some confuse the complicated emotion of passion with lust—this is a horrible misconception made by almost everyone—because passion cannot be found, unless one knows where to look. And to find something that is lost, such as passion, you need to also, coincidentally, be lost—lost in _love_, if you're to do it right.

This was the emotion that caused so many heads to turn at the beginning-of-the-year ball. This was the emotion that fueled a certain Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy to dance so _erotically _in front of the student body. Their love had created a passion—but the love was, actually, what was lost. Because Draco and Hermione believed that they only had passion and friendship—neither one believed in a true and everlasting love.

"They're staring, Draco." Hermione whispered, still dangling upside down from Draco's extended arm. They had just finished dancing the tango.

She groaned. "Make the world stop spinning…"

That was enough of a cue for Draco to lift her up and back into his arms. She smiled in gratitude and he spoke, in hushed whispers. "Let them stare. They envy our passion."

Hermione sighed, almost wistfully and danced herself out of Draco's arms, coming to place her head near his ear. "Is that all we have, Draco? Passion?" She grasped his hand in hers and felt, like clockwork, the telltale butterflies that she associated with something that was a lot more than passion. "And make sure you're completely certain before you answer…I'm fragile, I'm afraid."

He grabbed her arm and looked into her painstakingly beautiful chocolate gaze. "I know of nothing else…I have never experienced anything more than passion." He nearly felt the pain that oozed from her being at that sentence. "But one only needs to learn the forbidden in order to reclaim it."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "What if it's not forbidden? What if it's only forgotten? You must have been loved…once." She saw memories behind her closed lids then—memories of desolate plains and of two people that were replicas of her and her Draco—completely and devotedly in love. She gasped. "The Lion's Serpent…"

His eyes seemed to glaze over as she said the word, as if he, too, was remembering a dream. He placed his hands on either side of her face. "We must find the key, Mina…we must close the void…"

Hermione gasped and grabbed Draco's hands. "Draco? Are you alright?" He nodded, wistfully and rubbed the pads of his fingers across her face.

"I really wish I could kiss you…my Mina…but I cannot. You must reunite me and my Mina with our souls. You do not belong. You are not real. You must find the key…the key to the riddle…the Lion's serpent…" Then Draco's eyes cleared and his hands fell to his side—and he was once again corporeal.

"Hermione? Why are you staring at me like that? Are you alright?"

Hermione smiled, a little pained and grasped his right hand in her left. "I am perfect, Draco. Can we get some drinks now?" He nodded and led her off the dance floor, quite aware of the curious glances that followed them.

"Water?" He asked, handing her a crystal goblet with shimmering clear liquid. "I'm not sure the pumpkin juice or the punch is still pure…if you get my meaning…"

She laughed and took the glass from him, sipping the cool mixture down her parched throat. "Water's fine." She said, simply, picking up a scone from the food table. "And scones are always fine to wash down Hogwarts water…" She giggled and took a delicate bite from the scone—and Draco watched as the crumbs tumbled down into the crevice of her breasts that were exposed by her dress. He felt his mouth watering.

She noticed his drool and quickly handed him a scone and a glass of water, thinking he was envious of her snack. "You could have just asked, you nutter." He smiled, strained, and took a sip from his goblet, grateful that Hermione had not noticed the true intentions of his staring. "Do we dance again, my dear Lucifer?" She asked, twiddling the beads that dangled from her shoulders. "Or do we simply watch and mock like the devils we are?"

"I believe," he began, "that it would be more devilish for us to upstage them, then for us to just simply watch. Because our peers can ignore the sting of word's pebbles, but they cannot ignore the pounding headache that comes from a good upstaging boulder." He set his glass on the table and watched as Hermione did the same. "So…shall we dance, my dear Seraphim?"

Blushing, Hermione replied with: "Yes, we shall."

They maneuvered their way onto the dance floor, their heads held high and smiles on their faces. To anyone who did not know them, they would have seemed like they were desperately in love—but the people around them knew that Draco was incapable of love, or had forgotten how to love. They formed a perfect dancing couple, and Hermione was well aware of how close they were. She used this to her advantage and spoke in Draco's ear: "I will teach how to love, Draco, if it is the last thing I do."

Then she spun away from him, content to be a pawn in the dance—whether the tango or the dance of life—Hermione was happy to just simply be insignificant—if for only once in her life.

Draco couldn't reply to her—he didn't have the courage. He didn't have the courage to admit that maybe the feeling that plagued him whenever he was away from her was, in actuality, love, because he didn't believe it. He remembered the Forgotten—he remembered the manipulations that his Original had used against him. Maybe his love for Hermione had been forged from Mina and his Original's love—maybe he truly didn't love her at all. He couldn't do that to her—he refused to make her suffer through false or unrequited love. She deserved so much more. So Draco was content to dance with her—whether just a simple tango or a last goodbye—he was happy to simply be there in her arms—even if it was for the last time.

He pulled her back to him and twirled her around, then dipped her so the bun at the nape of her neck touched the floor; one of her slender sandal-covered feet was suspended in the air and she had a giddy smile on her face as she dipped and spun. Draco's own face erupted with happiness and everyone around them stopped to watch—to watch what would come to be known as the unveiling. Slowly, as if by mechanics alone, Draco's eyes lightened and scars formed on his face and arms as he spun; as he held on to Hermione. And Hermione was changing as well. Her hair smoothed out into beautiful soft ringlet curls and her eyes sparkled, but, just as with Draco, scars appeared, marring her natural beauty but enhancing her natural strength. And then, as the dance ended, the entire population of Hogwarts was met with the sight of the Original Draco and Hermione—finally together again.

"Draco, we're back! They finally accepted the connection!" Mina breathed, throwing her arms around Draco's neck. "We're finally home—scars and all!" Her eyes were alight with the mischief of a woman that had been denied freedom for far too long. "What shall we do now?"

"I really wish I could kiss you right now." He said, simply, massaging circles on the small of her back.

"Wishes do come true, sometimes, Draco. You and I know that better than anyone in the world." But Draco was denied his kiss because, at that exact moment, a fist collided with his face. He blinked, his nose bleeding, and stared into the eyes of none other than Harry Potter.

"Potter, what's gotten into you?"

"You stole the newest Gryffindor! You've polluted her, you sorry excuse of a wizard! And I won't have it—not when I rule this school." And it was then that Draco realized that all was not well—the world had not been switched. He and his beloved were stuck in the world that they had created and the rules had changed. And he refused to give up on turning the tables back in his direction—not when things were finally going right in his life.

"My apologies," he replied. "You can have her…as long as she wishes to go with you. And if you rule the school, I doubt you'll have any trouble in convincing her to parade after you like a puppy. Everyone else seems to do so." He released Mina and got right in Harry's face.

"But I, for one, won't bow before a big-headed, slimy bastard like you who thinks that power is the new passion. It's not. No one loves you. You're completely alone—but I am not. I am stronger than you because I have someone that gives a damn about me! Who gives a damn about you, huh, Potter? Weasley?"

Draco shot a glance at Ron, who was visibly shaking. "No. Weasley's afraid of you. He doesn't care if you live or die, as long as he's still alive afterwards. Ginny?"

He looked across the room at the tiny red-head, who was nestled in Blaise's arms. "No. She's in love with a _Slytherin_ because you didn't give a damn about her when she loved _you_. Way to go, Potter! And how about little Miss Patil?"

He glanced at Harry's naive and frightened date. "No. She's here because she thinks you'll take care of her. But you won't. You'll drop her like she's a piece of gum on your bloody shoe. Let's face it. You don't give a damn about anyone. The only reason you want Mina is because I had her first and you can't stand to have insipid little Draco one-upping you, can you?" He backed up then, pulling Mina into his arms. "But then again—maybe I'm wrong about you. Maybe for once you can be the hero everyone thinks you are. Maybe you can be good. But as of right now, all I see is plain evil." He spat at Harry's feet, not noticing the blood in his saliva. "And you disgust me."

Then he grabbed Mina's hand and stomped off of the dance floor, disappearing into the hallway, leaving a stunned Harry Potter behind him.

They made their way through the crowded hallways, coming to a stop in front of their dormitory. Draco whirled around, his face flushed and his hair mussed, and Hermione couldn't think of a time when she'd seen something more beautiful. She slipped her arms, once again, around his neck and leaned up on her tip-toes, resting her lips against his lightly—with the least amount of contact possible. She heard him groan.

"You can't do that to me, love. It's just not polite," he murmured, resting his forehead on her crown of hair. She smiled and massaged the back of his neck, her fingers making invisible circles on his pale skin. He answered her with yet another groan. "Now that's just plain evil." Then, with practiced ease, he bent his head and captured her lips with his own.

This oral "dance" continued for a mere moment, but to Mina and Draco it was like a lifetime. It had been so long since they had been able to feel this way. The Forgotten was a horrid place. Mina pulled away first, nearly gasping for breath. "Draco," she whispered, leaning her face against his chest, "We have work to do here. We cannot waste time fawning over one another. The void has not been closed. There people here are not from our world—they are figments from the world we created. We have to set things right."

Draco let go of her, slowly, turning away. Mina saw tears in his beautiful silver eyes. "Draco?" she called out, putting a hand on his quaking back. He shrugged her away.

"Why do we have to go back?" he asked, his voice gurgled from tears. "Everything is perfect here. There's no Voldemort, there's no Lucius—we're finally safe! Don't you see, Mina? This is where we are meant to be!"

Mina shook her head. "That's all fine and dandy to you, Draco, but here my friends despise me and my parents are gone. I don't think this qualifies as the perfect world for me…" She wiped at a tear that escaped her eye. "I want to go back."

He scowled, darkly and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't! When we're there, we can't be together! And you know how much that hurts—look at what happened in the Forgotten! We were miserable!" He looked at her with pleading eyes. "I can't lose you again…I just can't…" He then turned abruptly to the silver door of their dormitory. "_Draconis Lea," _he said, climbing into the common room as the door slid open. Mina followed close behind.

"Draco! Come back!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face. "Draco!" But he was already gone—locking himself in his personal quarters—not knowing that his beloved Mina would soon be snatched away…

…

Mina paced the common room, angry and depressed at the same time. She loved Draco with her entire being, but she also cared deeply about her friends, despite what they had done to her. Sure, here they were safe, but for how long? The void was a dangerous thing to mess with. Demons roamed its black depths and, at any moment, any one of them could rise and attack the Earth. It frightened her to death.

She had just collapsed on the couch when a knock sounded at door. She scurried over to it, quickly fixing her mussed appearance before opening it. Blaise and Ginny stood on the other side, their costumes glittering in the dim candlelight. Blaise was the Phantom of the Opera and Ginny was Christine Daae—they had very cliché costumes. She nodded to them. "Hello," she said, pleasantly, strangely awed that Blaise was who Ginny was paired with in this world. They never spoke two words to each other normally.

Ginny smiled, warmly. "Hey," she said, "can we talk to you for a moment—alone?" Mina nodded and exited the common room, closing the door behind her.

"Where would you like to talk?"

Blaise spoke then: "We have a place already set up. There was a Slytherin party in there earlier, but they've all but cleared out. Pansy's the only one left—but she'll be easy to move." Mina mentally gagged at the thought of Pansy Parkinson. She hated that girl with _nearly_ every fiber of her being—only Voldemort, Pettigrew and Lucius claimed a higher amount of Mina's hatred than her.

Mina nodded once and then followed Blaise and Ginny throughout the corridors, coming to stop in front of an eerie black door on the Third floor—it was oddly familiar. Then she remembered—Fluffy had once resided in that room. "I don't want to go in there," she said, her voice wavering, "There's bad memories in that room."

Ginny and Blaise laughed. "Don't be silly, Hermione!" Ginny said, linking her arm through Mina's. "There's nothing in there to be frightened of!"

Then she was being led into the room—silently praying that nothing evil awaited her inside.

**R & R**

**Sorry it was so short—but the dance is done! I probably won't update for a week or so because school just got out and I need to get things organized and switched onto my home computer. I hope you'll all survive without our beloved Draco and Mina.**

**Next chapter's got action in it! Woo! So don't miss it!**

**-Darkness-**


	7. Gabriel

Gabriel

The room was dark-darker than could ever be imagined of a classroom with three windows. It was as if the light had been sucked out by some strange force. But Ginny kept a firm grip on her arm as they walked and Blaise was a foreboding presence on her right. She had nowhere to go, even if she were to try and escape.

She was vaguely aware of being sat down on a rather musty couch. She assumed it was a couch, anyway, and the mustiness was obvious; the smell was overbearing in the enclosed space. Suddenly, the air chilled and Hermione felt Ginny let go of her hand and scoot away--no!--it was as if she simply disappeared. Blaise was gone as well and Hermione felt the chills of unbridled terror lap at her spine. Then, like the hands of death, she felt someone grasp her hands.

"Hermione Granger. I have waited 17 years for you." His voice was deep, but not soothing, as Draco's was. It was like ice being poured across her body. She shivered as she felt him sit next to her. "I did not believe, at first, that you would fall for my minions' deception. But you did after all."

Hermione found her voice, but it was strained and full of panic. "Minions?"

"You did not believe that the actual Ginerva Weasley and Blaise Zabini led you to me, did you? You did? How odd. No, I'm afraid that they are far too pure for me to possess. As are you, sadly, but you are still useful. You have the magic I need."

"Need? I'm just a normal witch, A muggle-born even!"

"Yes, beloved, need. You have been blessed with a special gift and I must possess it in order for my plan to work. But, unfortunately, I cannot steal it from you. Instead, I must harness it-in the form of a child."

"A child?"

"Yes, a child. You will be my bride and birth me a child; a female child. One that has both my powers and yours. Then that child shall be the key."

"Key? Bride? No." She struggled against him but his grip was powerful. She was trapped between him and the musty couch.

"Yes. Our offspring shall be the key to permanently opening the Void, allowing the demons to reign supreme over the lesser races once again. The wizards and the humans shall be our slaves. Except for you. You will be revered among your kind." He caressed the inside of her wrist causing more shivers to wrack her body. "You will be the only mortal left with a soul."

She gasped and felt tears stream down her face. "Who are you?" she spat, turning her face to look down at her lap as he moved into the soft glow of light that surrounded her, revealing his face. She couldn't bear to look at him. But some unnatural force made her glance upward and she was met with the sight of bright golden eyes, slicked, long, black hair in a queue and the palest complexion she had ever seen. His teeth were like razors and claws jutted out from where fingernails should be. He was dressed in white dress shirt, black slacks, and a dark leather duster and looked like a normal man-from the neck down.

"I have many names, beloved."

She sniffed, indignantly, silently chastising herself for thinking of him as a normal man. "What shall I call you? Demon? Filth?"

His mouth curved into a smirk of arrogance. "You may call me beloved, if you wish. Or my Lord. But if you wish to keep to non-formalities, I am known as Gabriel Sutekh."

She spit in his face. "_Gabriel Sutekh_, you are _filth_ and a _mar_ on this earth. You _deserve_ the void. And I _refuse_ to bear a child for you. I would rather _die_."

He laughed at her courage and took one of his hands off of her in order to reach into the pocket of his duster. He pulled out a small black orb. "Look into the orb, beloved. Glance upon the man you call "precious"."

Her eyes were drawn the orb and, inside, she saw Draco, lying on his bed in a pool of blood, demons surrounding him like black shrouds. She screamed and tore her gaze away, her tears doubling in force and sobs wracking her body. Gabriel slipped the orb back into his pocket. "The path of hatred for me that you are set upon and your reluctance to cooperate is what did that to him. But I can undo it; because it has not yet happened. Agree with the terms, beloved and you will live a safe and fruitful life while your precious Draco Malfoy will continue to be allowed to live."

The tears and sobs slowed and Hermione looked at her lap in defeat. "I accept, my Lord, but understand this. I will never love you. I will never care for you. And I will never give you the satisfaction to ever see my emotions ever again."

Her grabbed her chin with his free hand. "What do you want most, beloved? Besides your freedom?" She looked at him with a pained expression.

"To destroy the orb you protect; to take away your advantage." Then, with all the speed she could muster she ripped the orb from Gabriel's pocket and smashed it on the floor. He let out a roar of rage.

"Insolent whore! You will pay for that in blood!"

Her face, expressionless, lowered once again. "Bleed me until I die, my Lord. It is a better existence than this."

He hit her then, sending her spiraling into the blackness of unconsciousness., whilst her beloved Draco Malfoy continued to fume in his private rooms, oblivious to her torment.

It wasn't that he was mad at her. He loved her. She knew that. It was why he had risked opening the void in the first place. He was angry that she didn't see the benefits of staying in this world. Things were perfect for them. They could be together without hassle. She could make new friends. Or she could even win over her old ones. It wasn't that easy for Draco in the old world. Not only would he have to win over her friends, he'd have to find a way to win over most of the student body and find a way to avoid being slaughtered by Voldemort. It was so much safer here and the likelihood of a void demon actually causing havoc was slim to none.

He rubbed at his forehead. He was having another one of those migraines; the ones that signaled visions most of the time. He tried to suppress it but, just like always, the black closed in around him and plummeted him into oblivion.

_He was on the beach again. At their house. Hermione was nowhere to be found; neither were their children. It was dark. Suddenly, there a noise behind him. He flipped around to see Hermione in the arm's of a pale man with golden eyes and razor teeth and claws. But she wasn't screaming. She was practically lifeless. A child stumbled forward behind the couple. A young girl with chestnut curls, a pale complexion and golden eyes. She was their daughter. _

_Then suddenly the dream changed and he was lying on his bed in the dorms, but it was unusually cold. Surrounding him were dark shadows in all different shapes when, suddenly, they dove at him, ripping him apart. But he didn't feel the pain because he was pulled away before he could bleed; but he had felt their clammy flesh upon his skin and it had been enough._

_Then the dream changed again and he was once again on the beach; but there was no Hermione or her lover. There was only a teenage girl with blonde curls and honey-brown eyes. He recognized her. "Ariella," he breathed, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled. _

_"I don't blame you, Dad." she said, her voice so much stronger than when he had last seen her. She had been a toddler then. "For giving up on her." _

_His eyes widened. "On who?" _

_"Mom. I don't blame you, I swear. It's just hard to come to terms with the fact that I'll never exist., y'know? The Gods were even nice about it too. They let me choose how old I wanted to be today. I chose teenager." She laughed--a feathery sound that just screamed "Hermione Granger is my mother." He cringed._

_"I didn't give up, Ariella. Your mother is fine." _

_Her eyes were piercing. "He's got her, Dad. I warned you that he was coming. But you didn't listen. Gabriel has mom."_

_"Gabriel?"_

_"The Void demon. The one that has the power to permanently open the Void. All he needs is a child and a bride. Mom is the bride." She looked away, sniffing. "She saw your death in his black orb; she thinks that if she fights, you'll die. She was right; but not anymore. You still have a chance to save her, but you have to be willing to give up your perfect world. You have to have the faith to believe that you can survive in the real world." She grabbed his arm and looked into his eyes one more. "You have to save her, Daddy. I'm already fading…" _

_And she was. Her from was becoming see-through and ghost-like. But she wasn't ready to leave yet. "Find Gabriel Sutekh and stop him." She touched his face. "The key must be a first-born of a pure mother. You must find mom and save her. I'm the key to saving everything." _

_Then she was gone and Draco was once again plummeting through the darkness, praying that, for once, he would remember this vision; for Hermione's sake. _

He awoke on the floor of his personal rooms and remembered everything, to his amazement. In a rush of fear and anxiety, he ran from his rooms and began to search the dorms for any sign of Hermione. There was none. Immediately, he left, running through halls with bare-feet, yelling for Hermione. Every teacher was drawn to the commotion and, by the time his energy ran out, he was surrounded. Snape spoke first.

"Mr. Malfoy, there had better be a good reason for all this screaming," he said, coolly, lending a hand to lift Draco from the ground where he had collapses. Draco nodded wildly in response.

"Hermione's been kidnapped!" he wailed, whirling around to grab Dumbledore's arm. "By a void demon! Gabriel Sutekh! He's going to make her his bride and breed a child that will permanently open the void. He'll unleash all the demons; everyone's souls are in jeopardy!" The looks Draco received were skeptical, at best. He cringed and backed away from them. "You don't believe me."

Dumbledore put a hand on his arm. "On the contrary, I do believe you, actually." There was a collective gasp from the faculty as he continued. "I didn't at first but when I actually looked at you I noticed that you no longer look like the Draco Malfoy we all know. Your eyes are different and you're marred from a battle that never occurred here. As is Hermione Granger."

Snape grabbed Draco's arm suddenly and whirled him around, staring at him. "You're right, Albus. The boy is not what he seems. He does not belong here."

Draco nodded. "And neither does Hermione. At least, not my Hermione. Her and I belong in another world and, because of my stupidity and pigheadedness, we may never return there. We need to save her."

Dumbledore nodded. "I agree. This is of utmost importance. The void is not something to be trifled with. I have heard of many wizards that have made Imitations and have never been able to switch them back to Originals. The Originals were forever trapped in the Forgotten. But what we have here is much worse. You and Miss Granger managed to switch back, but you did not seal the void when you came here; freeing a void demon. Luckily for you, only one demon can be on a plane at any time. So we only have one to deal with."

"But he's powerful, sir! I've been told so!"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "By whom, Mister Malfoy?"

"My daughter. Ariella Belinda Malfoy. Mine and Hermione alleged first-born."

"Alleged?"

"She's fading. If Gabriel Sutekh breeds with Hermione, Ariella will never exist. Neither will any of our other alleged children. If he succeeds, I will never be with Hermione again; and no one will ever be the same. These void demons eat souls--enslaving people. None of us are exempt from that. If we do not save Hermione before the breeding, we are all doomed to a soul-less existence."

Dumbledore's face was grave. "Then we have not a minute to lose. Professor Trelawney, I want you to prepare to do a seeing, and Professor Flitwick, I want you to prepare for a locator charm; a powerful one. And Professor McGonnagal and Professor Snape, I want you to prepare to induce Mister Malfoy into his animagus form."

McGonnagal gasped. "Without the training? It could be lethal, Albus!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Somehow I think that is the least of Mister Malfoy's problems at the moment." Draco nodded and watched as the four teachers scurried away to do the Headmaster's bidding. Then Dumbledore turned to the remaining teachers. "The rest of you will keep order while we try to locate Miss Granger. No one is to know of her disappearance and anyone who does end up knowing needs to have their memory erased immediately. We don't want to take the chance that any of our students are, in fact, working for Gabriel." He looked at them with piercing eyes. "Just as I will check all of you for possession sometime tonight. I expect you all in my office in three hours time. If you are not there, you will be found and your memories will be erased and you will be sent immediately to Azkaban prison. Do not underestimate me."

They nodded and walked away, their heads bowed, and Draco could tell that none of them were tampered. Somehow he didn't think Gabriel was counting on his rival being helped by his alleged daughter in his dreams. It was too odd to predict. He felt Dumbledore place his gnarled hand on his arm. "We will find her, Draco. Be rest assured."

"I should be, but, oddly, I'm not."


	8. Aine and the Animagus

(A/N: If you've read any of my fictionpress work, you'll notice that I like to reuse names. Aine would be one of them. So would Aislin. But we haven't quite gotten there yet. : winks : )

Aine and the Animagus

She awoke to the pinprick sensations of a bruise on her jaw and left cheek. She could tell by her blurred vision that her left eye was swollen shut as well. A tear leaked out of it as the pain of her injury sent her head careening back to the pillow. She groaned. "Draco…" she breathed, putting a hand to her forehead. "I need an anti-headache charm. Draco?" Suddenly, the memory of yesterday crashed down upon her like the blade of a guillotine. She screamed in fear and agony. She was a prisoner—a prisoner to a demon of the Void.

Suddenly, the door to her room creaked open and light spilled in. She could now see that she was in a lavish suite, decorated with lily and magnolia printed wallpaper and dark cream fabrics, with random splashes of rose colored accents. She was nestled in the cream sheets of a canopy bed. The only odd thing was—there were no windows, no bathroom, and the door to the hall was equipped with a massive padlock. Her attention focused on the person in the doorway, finally, and she was met with the sight of a tiny creature, much like a house elf, but with a more bluish skin tone and prettier features. The creature, Hermione could see now it was female, was dressed in a black tunic and her bristly, long amber locks were pinned in a tight bun on the top of her head.

"I am called Mirgy," the creature said, looking at Hermione with disdain. "I am a Gorfunk, a demon under the service of Master Gabriel. I have been asked to assist Mistress Hermione, my Master's bride-to-be."

Hermione started laughing. "Bride-to-be? Well, I don't believe I ever accepted a proposal." She wagged her finger at the speechless Gorfunk in the doorway. "So, no I am not the bride-to-be—I am a common prisoner." She bowed her head.

Mirgy shook her head. "Mistress is ill. I will heal her." The blue girl approached the bed warily, before clambering onto the nightstand so she could get a better grip on Hermione's hair. Hermione yelped as the demon girl probed her face with a poking finger. "You have the head bleeding," she said, plainly. "And I shall fix it."

She pulled out an herb from a pouch attached to her tunic that Hermione had not seen before and spread it over her entire face, some gathering in the fragile hairs that wisped around her forehead. Hermione winced as the herb began to gain temperature. Soon, it was almost too hot for Hermione to handle. By that time, Mirgy had pulled out two other herbs and was creating a poultice. Finally, Hermione couldn't take in anymore. "It's hot! Take it off!" she wailed. Mirgy jumped in surprise.

Mirgy obliged, pouring cool water onto Hermione's steaming face. "The head bleeding has ceased and your bruises are gone, Mistress. Now I shall put a poultice on your swollen eye." She did so, wrapping the cool poultice to Hermione's head with a thin purple cloth. Hermione sighed as the cooling herbs took effect. She could feel her swelling going down almost immediately. She moaned in relief. "Thank you, Mirgy," she breathed, taking the little Gorfunk's hand in her own. "You have made me much more comfortable."

Mirgy gasped in surprise. "The Mistress has touched me." Suddenly, Hermione felt something very odd beneath her fingers. The Gorfunk was morphing. Soon, Hermione was face to face with the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She was close to 6 feet tall and had amber hair down to her waist. She was completely bare except for a tattered cloth that she held over her exposed breasts. Her teal eyes were filled with amazement. "You freed me," the woman stuttered.

Hermione pulled the poultice from her eye so she could look at the woman fully, noting that the swelling hadn't completely gone down. "Who are you? What are you?" she rasped, circling her arms around herself.

"I am Aine," the woman replied. "And I am a Dryad."

….

The pain was horrible. He didn't how Hermione did it. "I'm tired of this, Professor. I've tried all night. It's morning now and I still can't turn into my animagus. This is pointless."

Professor McGonnagal shook her head. "I really didn't want to do this, my boy, but it seems I'll have to induce your form. I was going to try this naturally, but it seems it's too complicated for you under your current stress levels." She picked up a bottle off of her desk. "Drink this and then be prepared for a lot of pain and awkward feelings."

He nodded and took the potion from her hands. "See you on the other side," he breathed, trying to reassure himself and then, when he had officially bullshitted himself enough, Draco swallowed the entire dose in huge gulp.

The pain and discomfort was immediate. Draco nearly screamed at the pure agony of it all. But, a minute later, the pain had ceased and Draco pried his eyes open; and he didn't recognize himself. He heard a voice above him that he recognized as McGonnagal's but he still couldn't believe it. He was a fox. The mirror before him proved it. He wasn't a ferret. He was a silver fox. He shook his head and yelped, causing McGonnagal to crouch down to his level. "Mr. Malfoy, this is very interesting."

He cocked his head at her and sat, looking at her with a questioning expression, relaying his question: _Why?_

She understood. "Miss Granger's animagus is an auburn fox." She tapped her chin. "Is your patronus a fox as well, Mr. Malfoy?"

He nodded, a little dumbfounded. McGonnagal smiled. "It seems you truly have found your one and only match in Miss Granger. This is very rare." Then she tapped her wand to his forehead and watched as he morphed back into his humanoid form. "Well? How do you feel?"

He put a hand to his head. "A little sore; and I've got a headache. It feels like I got punched in the face." Suddenly, McGonnagal gasped.

"Your eye is swelling and your cheeks….they're bruised." She prodded him lightly with her wand and he flinched.

"Ow!" he yelped, covering his face. "What did your potion do to me?"

She shook her head. "That's not from my potion," she stuttered, defensively. "It's been used for at least a hundred years and there have never been those kinds of side effects. She flicked her wand: "_Inquiro Albus." _A dark red light exploded from her wand and fluttered out the door. Draco looked at her skeptically.

"What was that for?"

"It's a locator charm. It's going to find Albus. He needs to see this," she gestured towards his quickly swelling eye and bruised face. "I think it might have to do with the Miss Granger."

The door whipped open then, startling both Professor and student. They flipped their heads around and were met with the sight of one Albus Dumbledore being dragged by the same red orb of light that had exploded from McGonnagal's wand only moments earlier. He was cursing furiously. "Was this really necessary, Minerva?" he complained, brushing the dust that had gotten on his robes when the charm had dragged him.

She smiled. "Of course, Albus; though I could have sent for a house elf to come get you—I guess I just didn't think the idea through properly." Suddenly, her face morphed into one of complete seriousness. "We have an issue, Albus." She pointed behind her at Draco who was probing his face with his pinky finger, wincing.

Albus approached the boy and prodded his arm. "Let me see, Draco," he murmured and Draco, even though he was startled, turned to show his Headmaster his hurting face. Albus shook his head. "This could be a good thing, my boy; or a very bad thing. It all depends on Miss Granger."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Sir?"

Albus sat down on a chair across from Draco. "It seems that every time Hermione is injured, you receive the same injury. It's a defense mechanism of your bond. This ability makes sure that the person who suffers the injury only receives half of the pain, while their partner receives the other half."

Draco nodded, his eyes tearing. "Good; this means that I can take her pain away. All I have to do is heal myself. She won't die on me." He was full-out crying now.

But then Albus shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Draco. She has to be healed; not you. Just as if you are hurt, you must be healed to get rid of her side effects." He frowned. "It's all very complicated and not a thing to be trifled with."

Draco nodded. "But still—she can't die."

Albus' frown deepened. "She cannot die from the killing curse—no. But she can perish from other things. If you are injured severely and her body can't handle the strain of that much pain, she will die. If you are struck with killing curse and her body can't handle supporting another life, you both will die."

Draco's eyes blazed. "Then I can't get hurt."

Albus, to Draco's surprise, laughed. "Yes, that would be preferably, but it's not logical. You are going to battle against Void demons, my boy. It's entirely possible that neither of you will survive this fight." He clasped his gnarled hands together. "On the other hand, this bond should make it easier to find Miss Granger. Every bond has a signature and leaves a trail. We only have to follow it. But, this will only work if Miss Granger is hurt again, because it seems she's just been healed. Your bruises are retreating and your swelling is down."

Draco poked himself and scowled. "I don't like having to wait for her to have some injury so I can save her. It seems a little counterproductive."

Albus laughed darkly. "It does, doesn't it?"

Draco stood and shook out his arms and legs. "Well, I guess I could practice my animagus a bit more. And then maybe one of you could help me train. I'm starting to think that Level 5 spells aren't going to be enough."

Albus and McGonnagal both nodded. "I think you're right," Albus murmured, before turning to the door. But, before he left, he chanced a glare at McGonnagal. "No more locator charms, Minerva. I know how you revel in the ability to torture me so."

She grinned before turning to Draco. "Shall we try again?"

….

Okay, so there's another chapter of LOST.

It's been a really long time since I've updated.

I'm terribly sorry. I got distracted by 'Incandescent Melody'—

My new fic, in case you didn't know.

And yes, I know, it's short.

Anyways, Read and Review


	9. A Lych and A Looking Glass on Life

(A/N: No reviews? That's slightly displeasing to me. I toiled to bring you this story, and I don't even get an offhand comment? I have a piece of mind that's screaming that I stop updating until someone reviews. I mean, seriously! Nine chapters now and I have nowhere near the number of reviews I have on GOTWS. Does that mean that my Sess/Kag fans are more devoted than you? –le gasp- I don't believe it. So, to spur some report, here is chapter nine. Fight for ye title, Dramione lovers! Be the more devoted of the two Hetships! I dare you!)

P.S: About the disclaimer that I don't have…I'm not going to put one up…ever. Just know that I don't own anything that JK owns. I only own what I created. Thank you and goodnight.

A Lych and A Looking Glass on Life

"A Dryad?" she murmured, looking at the beautiful woman with a guarded expression. "They're extinct. I've studied every book about magical creatures and all of them say that you're either a ghost or I'm hallucinating."

Aine rolled her eyes. "I'm not a ghost."

"Then I must be hallucinating," Hermione reasoned, shaking her head. "There's no way that you're here right now. I'm most definitely losing my mind."

"No, you're not. And your precious textbooks are close to the right answer, I'm sad to admit. The Dryads were extinct. But, obviously, we are not anymore. You're the one we've been looking for these past centuries. 'The Maiden Whose Hand Will Touch and Make Pure Those Who Have Been Contaminated'."

Hermione scoffed. "Cue the musical number: 'You're our only hope!'. This is like something out of one of those cliché fantasies. There's a prophecy, a special person, a damsel and/or species and/or country in distress, special person falls in love and then ka-blammo it's happily ever after." She laughed darkly. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm waking up from this dream right now." At that, she pinched herself—hard—causing a red welt to spread on the tender flesh on the inside of her arm. She winced and yelped. "Okay, that wasn't smart."

Aine was smiling. "You're a strange girl, Mistress. I have to admit that much. You have tried to harm yourself just to escape the truth of what you see." She twirled. "I am not a ghost and you are not hallucinating. What you have done is quite simple."

"Really? Well, do explain, because I'm quite clueless," she growled, crossing her arms, angry that she hadn't been able to wake herself up. "And hurry up. I don't want to stay in this dream longer than necessary. I could be murdered while I'm in here."

Aine shook her head exasperatedly. "Stop this nonsense. You are not dreaming. This is quite real." Suddenly, her eyes took on a gold tint. "And I shall prove it to you." Then, a mere second later, Hermione was looking a Hawthorn tree in the face…err bark. She squealed and jumped back.

"What the bloody hell?!" she swore, burying her head under the coverlet. "Make it go away. I'm imagining this." She heard a chuckle from above as she continued mumbling to herself.

"Do you see the truth in this now, Mistress?" Aine breathed, placing a hand on Hermione's head. "Can you not see what you have freed?"

At that, Hermione's head popped up. "Freed? I didn't do anything for you."

Aine smiled. "Yes you did; you did a great deal for me and my people. You have the touch that can free us, Mistress. You are the maiden we have waited for."

Hermione's eyes closed. "Freed you from what?"

"My demonic prison—the Gorfunk's disgusting body—the place where Gabriel Sutekh trapped us on the day of his first uprising, thousands of years ago. We were keeping him from Earth because we barricaded the doorway with thorns and sent ferocious animals to foil his demons at every turn. Unfortunately, he trapped our Queen and tortured her until she pleaded for him to save our lives. He did, but not in the way our beloved Queen wanted. He turned me and my sisters into Gorfunks and the rest of the Dryad population in Grunts—ugly, disgusting, and easily manipulated Void demons. We have been trapped in those bodies ever since."

"What's so special about you and your sisters?" Hermione queried, finally coming out from under the coverlet—her curiosity piqued.

"We are the Queen's daughters—the next in the line for succession. Gabriel wanted to keep us close to him. Gorfunks make up his household staff. There are only two of the original eight Princesses left. The others perished from disease or from self-mutilation."

"Who is the other?" Hermione pressed, looking around for her cloak. "We have to rescue her." She was already moving. Aine shook her head.

"Calm, Mistress. We cannot save my sister yet. You have much to do before then. Besides, she is not here. She traveled with Elise and Yabba."

"Who are they?"

"Gabriel's mistress and crone. He sent them away around the same time you arrived. He sent my sister and two other male Gorfunks with them. The Gorfunks will eventually be sent back, I suspect, because Gabriel never intends for Elise and Yabba to survive. He's going to have them ambushed in the Murthimn Woods."

Hermione's eyes were filled with anger. "What is your sister's name? I will have Gabriel send for her. I'll tell him I want another servant. If I beg and give him a little of what he wants, he'll surely give me anything I desire." She glanced at herself. "All he wants is this body. Why not let him have it? To save a life?"

Aine gasped in horror. "No, Mistress! Please! If you give yourself over to him, the Dryads will be doomed. We awaited a maiden. Bedding him would take away your maidenhood. Your touch would be of no use to us."

Hermione's eyes widened. "So that's how I did it—when I grabbed your hand." She shook her head in disbelief. "This is so ridiculous I actually believe it."

"I do not think it so ridiculous. Dryads have always been connected to the innocence of the Earth. There is no war in my people's world—only a binding love for nature and for the living beings that live alongside nature. This is not ridiculous. It is natural."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Of course it is." She sighed. "Nature has a funny way of tampering with my life lately." Tears slipped down her face. "I miss my love."

Aine patted Hermione's back comfortingly—like a mother would. "You will return to him—safe and healthy. I promise you."

"You cannot promise that."

"I can. If you help the Dryads then their one Mother—the great Gaia—will help you in return. Not even Gabriel can fight the power of the Earth. Even he is controlled by her. But she is not easily summoned. She is weeping for the loss of her children. But if you return us to our natural home, she will gladly repay you in any way you wish."

Hermione looked at her with disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Completely, Mistress—so, do you consent to help us?"

"I would have anyway…but yes! I do consent—wholeheartedly!"

Aine nodded once. "Then you must listen to me. There is only one way this can be done. And if we slip up even once, then all will be lost."

Hermione leaned closer. "Tell me what I need to do."

* * *

"Ow, ow…cramp…ow…" Draco whined, clutching his leg. It was twisted into its fox shape. It refused to change back. "This is what happens when you got a cramp while changing, apparently." He whined again, clearly in agony. What am I going to do?" 

There was a creak as the door opened. He yelped and dove under the table. No one could see him like this. Dumbledore and McGonagall had left him here to practice. He, apparently, had forgotten to lock the door. He peered out from under the desk and glared at the person who had entered the room. That is, until he recognized her. It was Ginny Weasley. He cursed. Now the guilt was back again. He felt guilty for not telling his friend everything that had happened—even though Ginny was only his friend in this world. It must be his Imitation influencing him. He poked his head out and let her see him. She gasped audibly and ran towards him. She, apparently, saw the tears running down his face from the pain of the cramp.

"Drake, are you all right? You're horribly pale…I mean…more than usual…err…never mind…" She let out a deep breath. "Are you okay? That's what I meant to say." Her red hair flopped down in her face and her green eyes were piercing as she studied him.

He crawled out from under the table, dragging his leg behind him. "I was practicing my animagus and I…I got a _cramp_ of all things…and it just stayed like this." He brought it into her line of vision, grimacing.

She let out another deep breath and reached towards his leg. "That looks…_painful_…" she breathed. He edged away from her, tentative of her touch. She smiled uncomfortably. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist…it looks so strange."

It did look strange. It was the leg of a silver fox—an animal considerably smaller than a human—attached to his body. It was out of proportion and the entirely wrong shape and color. It looked almost grotesque. He grimaced as another wave of pain rushed through him. "It is strange," he replied, after a minute, "but it's the pain that bothers me the most. If it would stop _hurting,_I might be able to fix it. But all my brain can focus on is the pain—thus, it won't change the leg back."

Ginny bit her lip. "Could I help? I could do a mind-cleansing spell. It won't last for very long, but it might last long enough for you to fix your leg." Her eyes were hopeful. "It could be enough…"

He nodded. He had nothing else to go on. If a mind-cleansing spell could free his mind of the pain, he might be able to change back. It was worth a shot. He stuck his fist in mouth so he'd have something to bite—in case the spell was painful. Ginny nodded and pulled out her wand, aiming it at his head. That made him uneasy. _"__Abigo__aegrotatio_!" She said the incantation with force and, before her eyes, Draco's own eyes became as blank as a sheet of untouched parchment. He slumped forward, drooling slightly. She had said it too forcefully. Now he was mentally empty.

Just as she was about to run for help, Draco's head lifted and he looked at her with a determined expression. The spell had worked after all! The muscles in his face hardened as he concentrated and, within mere moments, where Draco had once been, lay a panting, silver fox. It looked up at her with appreciation, licking its leg. She smiled. "You're welcome."

The fox shook its head and stood, coming to lean against Ginny's leg. She patted its head. "Do you think you should change back now?"

It nodded and closed its eyes. In a flash, Draco crouched before her, sweating profusely. The two changes had taken a lot out of him. He collapsed to the ground, mopping at his forehead. The spell Ginny has used only a few moments earlier had been worn out by the shift. He looked up at her, his silver eyes weary. "Thank you."

She smiled and knelt. "You're my friend."

A smile came to his lips. "I suppose you are."

She looked at him quizzically. "What does that mean?"

He shook his head. "Never mind; I'm just tired."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose you are." She stood slowly and turned towards the door. "I have to go. Blaise is waiting for me."

"Why did you come here anyways?" He was on his feet now.

She bit her lip. "I honestly don't know. I felt pulled towards this room; so I came to check it out. It's a good thing I did. If I hadn't, you'd still be part fox and in serious pain." Her green eyes were bright. "But really, I must go." She turned completely to the door. He grabbed her shoulder.

"Is it Blaise? Is that why you came here? To get away?"

She shook her head. "No; Blaise is wonderful." She sniffled. "It's my housemates that are being ridiculous." She sobbed, her chest heaving. "They…they don't understand. They don't believe that I…that I _love_him." She collapsed to the ground, surprising Draco into action. He dove for her and caught her in his arms, bringing her to his chest. She sobbed again—this time into his clean linen shirt. "They keep calling me a…a…_traitor…"_ she spat the last word out like venom.

He held her while she cried. "I understand, Red."

She rubbed her face in his shirt. "You don't; not completely. You and Hermione just met each other—just yesterday! And, besides, you two are Head Boy and Girl—you get to get away from it all; hide away in your common room. Blaise and I have to face the abandonment everyday. We have to fight for our love constantly."

He rubbed her back, soothingly. She was right. In this world, he and Hermione had just met. It wasn't like in the Original world—where they had known each other for years and had been fighting for their love for weeks—not counting the years in the Forgotten Plains. He shuddered at the memory. 17 years—separated from the one he was destined for; bound to. It had been hell. Ginny was also living in hell. The Original Draco could sympathize. The Draco that this Ginny knew…he didn't even come close to having experienced her pain. "I know I don't understand. But I get the pain of feeling separated from those around you. I've felt like that for years."

Her heart-shaped face tilted and she looked at him with glistening emerald eyes. "Oh, Draco…I'm sorry. I didn't want to make it seem like you've never known pain. I know you have. I've stepped through hell with you, watching as more and more pieces of the boy you once were fell away. I've watched you change. You became a hard thing—almost a walking corpse."

His eyes closed. "I'm changing now."

"I know." She sniffled one last time and then crawled from his lap. "I'm sorry about that…err…_display._" She straightened her clothes as he stood. "I think I'm going to go now…throw my pity party on the boy that actually deserves it."

Draco laughed. "Be nice to poor Blaise. He's not used to listening to girls cry. His mother and sister aren't much for displays of weakness and/or affection."

She smiled. "Thanks for the warning; but I know. I've been dating him for almost three years, you know." She cocked her head. "Are you all right? You're acting really weird today."

He bit his lip, cursing to himself. "Yea; I'm perfectly fine. Go see your boy-toy. I'll be fine right where I am."

She nodded and walked towards the door. She stopped right outside of it and glanced over her shoulder. "Why don't you go out with Hermione?" And then she was gone from the room, not knowing that she had just decimated him.

His heart clenched and a sob ripped from his throat. Hermione was _gone._ His world collapsed around him as his defenses crumbled and the full truth of it hit him again. Someone had taken her and he may never see her again. And in his heart he knew; he knew that there was no one else for Draco Malfoy.

She was the one. And some one had taken her from him. Anger built in his heart and the iron casing that had disappeared with Hermione's love, refortified—preparing to fight a greater evil. He would kill the son of a bitch that had taken her. He would pay. He clenched his fists. That monster would die at his hands or his wand—and it would be painful. And it would be justice.

* * *

The looking glass was foggy. It didn't really show her anything. Her face was buried in its depths and she was struggling to keep its murky water from entering her lungs. That's probably why she couldn't see. She was too close. She struggled and he pushed her harder into the water. He was frustrated. She could feel it in the tense pressure of his talons in her shoulder blades. 

"You will look and you will see."

She struggled again and he cackled. Her consciousness was slipping away from her. This wasn't a real looking glass. He was trying to knock her out. She knew that now—on the bridge between consciousness and unconsciousness. But it didn't matter _now_. She shouldn't have argued. She shouldn't have fought him. But she needed her body _clean_. It was essential. So she succumbed to the darkness, knowing he was too proud to take her when she could not fight against him.

* * *

Hermione awoke with yet another blinding headache. Her memory of last night was a blur. But she knew she was still intact—_that_particular part of her body did _not_hurt. It was everywhere else. Bloody indents from Gabriel's claws lined her back and her arms. They burned and itched and dripped and she ached to reach for them—to soothe them; but she couldn't. She was bound to the bed. He had gotten tired of her insolence. He had used force to contain her. 

She clenched her teeth. How would she escape now. She looked around, trying to discern whether or not Gabriel was still in the room. If he wasn't, she'd call for Aine. If he was…she'd have to keep_very_still.

"Mistress?"

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Aine."

There was a cackle. "I've found you out, Witchy."

Her eyes widened. "No…"

"Yes, I found your little Dryad friend."

"Please, Mistress; don't fight for me."

Hermione struggled at her bonds. "You bastard, let her go; she did nothing to you. She is my only friend here."

Suddenly, he was on top of her, pinning her down with his bulk. "What am I to you, then? Certainly, I am not your enemy." He rubbed his hands down her body, lecherously, causing bile to leap to her throat. She struggled beneath him but that, to her dismay, only made him aroused and, soon, his mouth was on her throat—gnawing, sucking, kissing—and she could nothing else but wriggle, squirm and cry.

Aine was sobbing from wherever she was in the room and the Dryad's sobs and sniffles made perfect background music for her destruction. It seemed as if his hands were everywhere. She could feel blood dripping from wounds he made with his claws and, above all else, she could hear the voice of her beloved whispering: '_You gave up on me, Mina…after everything'. _

And those words cut her deep. She refused to give up on Draco. She had survived 17 years of hell to be with him again and _no one_, not even a Void demon, was going to stop her. Malevolent energy crackled at her fingertips and her eyes bled crimson. Her teeth lengthened becoming the canines common to vampires and she thrashed. This time, to her surprise, Gabriel was thrown off—crashing into the far wall….and her bonds were slit. The malevolent energy continued to crackle as she rose. The wounds on her body healed before her eyes and she glanced about the room like a wild animal, searching for the body of the Void demon.

When she saw him, she couldn't hold in her cry of anguish. He held Aine by the throat and his eyes were completely black as he squeezed. Aine thrashed back and forth, trying desperately to free herself. But it was no use. The life fled from her like a summer breeze and, when it was gone, Gabriel dropped her to the ground like a sack f garbage. Hermione gnashed her teeth.

"What are you, beloved? You are not human."

"And I am not demon," she countered, trying to pull herself in check. The angry red vision was making the back of her head pulse painfully. What had she become? "But I am a Witch."

"Yes, but that interesting display of ferocity was not a display for a normal Witch." He raised a hand to dab at the spreading bruise on his chin. "No human Witch could have that kind of strength."

She lifted a hand to her mouth. Her sharp canines were retreating and, slowly, her vision returned to its normal multi-colored hues. She was still glaring at him as she lowered her hand. "Are you insinuating that I am a demon?"

"No, I am insinuating that you are a Lych." (A/N: It's pronounced 'Litch')

She ripped the bonds from her arms and stood, covering her shredded nightdress with her arms. "And what in the seven bloody hells is a Lych?"

"A human creature that, when provoked, frightened or angry, begins to feed on the powers of other creatures around it or creatures it has studied. That is why only humans becomes Lyches…usually. I assume you read often?"

"Everyday; sometimes all day."

"That makes you a prime candidate. What you just became…what creature did it remind you of?" He was circling her, coming closer and closer with each twist. She spread her legs and copied him, never taking her eyes off of his lithe form.

"A Vampire."

He grinned, his razor-like teeth glistening. "Yes, good."

Her eyes darkened. "You can't keep me here any longer."

He stopped moving and his mouth set into a thin line. "Oh, be sure that I can, beloved. I can keep you here as long as I please. I just cannot harm you. A Lych's powers are only exposed when it is threatened. Thus, if I leave you to wallow in your misery, in your loneliness…you may be in pain but the Lych in you will not recognize it."

"But if you cannot touch me…then I am no good to you. In order for your plan to succeed, I must bear you a child. But since I refuse, the minute you attempt, I will become the monster that was just before you, or a different one, and bloody you." Her eyes bore into him. "Let me free, Gabriel. Your plan is useless. I am useless to you."

He grimaced as he words hit him. "That may be true, beloved. But what if I do _not_force you? What if you come on your own accord?" He grinned impishly and stalked towards her. She backed up hurriedly, but was trapped against the bed. He stopped mere millimeters from her. "If I leave you alone for months, don't you think you will be lonely? That you will crave a man's company?"

She spat at him and dove under his arm, escaping him. "No; I will crave no man's attention but my beloved's—Draco's. I will never crave yours."

Gabriel ground his teeth together. "You will." Suddenly, his gaze snapped to Aine's broken corpse. "I will slaughter every Dryad in my household."

"Do you remember which ones they are, my Lord?" she asked, mocking him. "You have so many Gorfunks hiding about in the mansion, how will you ever discover who is who?" She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger.

He smirked. "You will show me. I know that your touch can heal them—remove my glamour. And that is what you will do. Everyday I will send you a new Gorfunk servant. You will touch—maybe not intentionally, but you will. If that servant does return to its quarters, then I will know you have saved a Dryad. And I will find that Dryad. And I will kill it," he spat, crossing his arms across his chest.

She rolled her eyes. "They will be long gone before you ever find them—_if,_I'm stupid enough to turn them. The smart thing for me to do would be to keep them all as Gorfunks until I find a way to escape. Then, when all hell breaks loose in this damned castle, I will touch them all—and I will free the Dryads. And with their power, you will be vanquished."

He cackled. "Do not think you can fool _me_! You need the Dryad magic _to_be rescued! Their magic is the key to unlocking the cloak that covers my mansion. If you wait, then you will wait forever. Without the Dryads, your beloved will never find you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "How do you…"

"I know everything. This is my mansion."

Tears dripped down her face. "And this is my hell." She turned away from him. "Get out, Gabriel. I wish to begin my eternal solitude and chastity."

He cackled as her turned to the door. "As you wish, beloved."

Her gaze drifted to Aine's corpse. "Send someone for the body."

He nodded, his eyes dark as he opened the door and stepped into the hall. "Certainly, beloved…certainly…"

* * *

ANOTHER CHAPTER COMPLETED!

WOO!! FIRST ONE SINCE I WENT ON HIATUS!

LE GASP! HERMIONE'S A _WHAT?_A LYCH?

…. What's a Lych?

THE ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION...and more...

LIE IN THE NEXT INSTALLMENT!

so...

STAY TUNED!

And R&R!

-Darkness


	10. Shape Shifting

Shape Shifting

The window let in minimal light, but it was more than she had seen in the weeks she had been trapped in Gabriel's mansion of Death. She liked to call it the Dirge—the place of endless tears. She thought it fit perfectly. He found it very amusing. Servants came and went, but Hermione was afraid to lay a hand on them. If any of them changed into Dryads, Gabriel would be on them in an instant; and she refused to cause any more death.

The tears had all fled; no more came from her ducts. She was limited to the dry sobs of anguish that came from her imprisonment. She thought of Draco often enough, but the vivid memories were fading, which only made her weep more. She could remember the slope of his neck, the shade of eyes, the texture of his hair, the baritone of his silky drawl, the unkempt cut of his hair, and the smoothness of his skin, pulled taut over Quidditch muscles; but she could not remember their first kiss, she couldn't remember the warmth of his hand in hers, she couldn't remember the pain they had endured or the love they shared; she felt almost empty, devoid of the emotions that once kept her sane.

She blinked at the door, which was always closed nowadays, save for when Gabriel came to visit at Midnight. It was when he was at his strongest and calmest—and he didn't want to take any chances with her newly discovered Lych abilities. He feared her, she knew, but she also knew that he had the upper hand. Her abilities were spontaneous and uncontrollable—triggered by the strong emotions of fear and anger—emotions that had to be prompted by another human being. And she could never guess what she would turn into.

She sighed darkly. "I hate you Gabriel Sutekh, and I hope you heard me in that hell hole you call a bedroom. I hope it roused you from your coffin. And I hope it completely pissed you off." She spread out her arms, tiredly. "Come and get me, Gabriel. I'm ready for anything you can dish at me. Come and take this cornered animal on. Maybe you'll falter," she sobbed once—a brittle, painful sound, "maybe I can finally go home."

As if upon summoning, the door opened to allow the Master of the Mansion entrance. There were dark circles under his eyes and his yellow pupils were lined with red. Her breath hitched. She had woken him? A sick pleasure twisted her gut into a knot. She scooted off the bed and aligned herself against the wall, her arms raised in useless protection.

His feline eyes met her gaze and he let out a deep sigh, before slinking into a leather armchair on the other side of the room. "So you've discovered the loophole, haven't you? The fact that I cannot sleep whilst you call my name? And I see that you're very much pleased by this information—you have something over me. Bravo, Hermione, bravo."

Her nostrils flared. "You will have no sleep while I'm trapped here."

He laughed. "A minor inconvenience, be assured." He rose from his chair and stalked towards her. Her stance stiffened as she prepared for the strike or touch that she was sure would come. As he approached, a smile graced his lips. "Dear, beloved, why do I frighten you so? Is it my appearance? I can change it if you wish." His eyes closed briefly and, suddenly, a stark mirror image of Harry Potter stood in front of her. "Is this your Draco Malfoy?"

She bit her lip and looked away. If she looked at Harry's image, she'd never be able to stay angry enough to attack him. Gabriel laughed and her gaze traveled back to his form. Now he stood as the Doppelganger of Ron Weasley. She shuddered and backed away, bile rising up into her throat from the vision of her ex-friend. Gabriel shook his head and changed again. This time, she sobbed.

Before her stood an exact replica of Draco Lucius Malfoy. Her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor. Every one of her memories was etched in his image. Every memory came flooding back to her like river water. She knew this wasn't the real Draco. But it didn't make it hurt any less. "Stop it," she wheezed, her heart clenching painfully in her chest.

"But you enjoy him, beloved, and I wish to be enjoyed."

"You're not him!" she wailed, covering her eyes with her shaking hands. "You don't know anything about him! Only his name and what he bloody _looks _like! Those things aren't what matter to me. I care about his _soul_. And you can't mimic that. You are a demon. A Void Demon—a useless, emotionless, _empty_, vessel of death; and I hate you."

His lips curled into a sneer. But it wasn't Draco's sneer. Her original surprise began to wear off to disgust and anger. "Get out of my room, Gabriel! Get out! Get out!" Suddenly, her vision blurred and her body lit on fire from the inside. She writhed and whirled, her eyes wild with her pain and fury. She was changing. Gabriel watched on in horror. She was changing. He had pushed her too far. His eyes darted to the door, but a newly clawed hand reached out and grasped his coattails. His Doppelganger image faded until he was simply Gabriel again. But it didn't appease Hermione. She shoved him across the room, causing him to ricochet off of the cement wall opposite the window. And then she was on him, her eyes yellowed and her teeth and claws sharp.

Gabriel cursed. "I _knew _this would happen."

Hermione smirked. "Did I turn into something you don't like, Gabriel? Or is it that I turned into something you _do _like but aren't used to seeing outside your _mirror_?" And just like she implied, Hermione _was _a Doppelganger of a Void Demon. She was female, of course, but the resemblance to Gabriel was there. This time, instead of changing into a creature from a book, she had turned into the very _creature_ in the room, to protect herself.

"You will regret laying your hands on me in a violent manner, beloved," he ground out, his voice low and calculating.

Hermione cackled. "But, my dear, the only way they _will _lay upon you is in a violent manner!" She looked at herself. "What is it? Do you see something disgusting? I'm only a Lych, Gabriel—a Creature Doppelganger. I have no control over what the creatures look like. Or maybe it's just that you see yourself as something other than what you are."

He reached for her neck, but she spun away, enjoying herself. Because of his anger, he couldn't get her under control. Thus, she was spinning circles around him in her fury—and she was cackling madly. "Beloved, return to me—calm yourself."

Hermione stalked around him, her eyes still blazing. Suddenly, her gaze landed upon the door. "Do you think I could escape? Would my Void Demon powers allow me access to the locks? Considering I took _your _DNA for my change?" She tapped her chin. "That sounds like a good thing to try; don't you think, Gabby?" She grinned wolfishly and kicked at the door, sending it tumbling to the ground. "Do you run fast, Gabby?"

And then she was gone, bounding, snarling and speeding down the hallways. Gabriel fumed, closing his eyes in concentration. Then he spoke one word in Latin: "_Phasma." _A black form drifted up from the ground, the only light on it it's orange, feline eyes. "Find her. Trap her. I will come for her shortly."

It floated down the hall, sniffing the air as it went, before it took off, flying faster than any broom every created and certainly quicker than the speed of a female human. But, while Hermione was a Void Demon, it had no chance of catching up. Gabriel smirked. "But you can't stay Demon forever, my dear, and the minute you falter and change, you're mine."

* * *

"Draco, you're not doing it right," she chided, bringing a roundabout kick to his midsection. He doubled over, panting.

"Dammit, McGonnagal! Knock it off with the kicking!"

"You need to be able to access Hermione's mind at any time, even during times of duress. You need to _concentrate!_" She kicked out again, sending him flailing to the floor in a tangle of arms. "CONCENTRATE!"

Draco fumed. "I'm A.D.D! I CAN'T CONCENTRATE! STOP HITTING ME!" He rubbed his midsection, pouting. "And I _bruise_ easily…"

McGonnagal rolled her eyes. "Great Scotts you're annoying."

"And you're supposed to be old and decrepit."

Her foot met his chin. He whined. "Watch your mouth."

"Stop hitting me!" He was suddenly very, very angry. In a burst of adrenaline, he dove beneath McGonnagal's next kick and sent the palm of his hand into her solar plexus. Her eyes widened and then filled with pained tears before she fell to the ground. "I will rescue Hermione, god dammit! But I'd like to do it in one piece!" He loomed over her, panting.

She blinked up at him. "You connected to her mind."

His mouth dropped open. "I wha?"

"You've connected to Hermione's mind. I can see it in your eyes. You're channeling her anger." She smiled, pained. "Try and communicate with her."

Draco fell to the ground. _He had connected?_ His eyes filled with tears. "Hermione?" he called out. His mind remained silent. "Hermione?" he tried again. Still, there was nothing. Then, he tried a third time. "Mina?"

Her lilting voice hit him like a brick. _"Oh God, oh God…I can't stop running! I can't! He'll catch me! Oh God, stay Demon just a little longer. I don't want to be human. Not yet. I'm almost to the gate. I can almost touch it. Oh God, but it hurts. It hurts to hold this form."_

"Mina?!" he yelped, bringing a hand to his head. "She's there! In my head!"

McGonnagal limped forward and brought a gnarled hand to his head. "You can hear her, Draco? Is she speaking or are you listening to her thoughts?"

He was sweating, straining to keep a hold on her voice. The joy at hearing her British/Irish lilt was extraordinary. It crept through him like lust, spreading to every cell in his body. He couldn't speak. He could barely think. All he could do was _feel_. Every memory he had of her rushed into his head. He could see her before him—every detail perfectly sculpted by his memory and her voice. He felt at peace for the first time in the two months she had been gone. His fists clenched. "It's her thoughts. She didn't answer me when I spoke to her. She's in pain, McGonnagal. A lot of pain; something about holding a Demon form."

McGonnagal's eyes widened. "You're sure?"

He nearly purpled in anger. "She's practically screaming it! Even in her thoughts! She's in pain…" He felt helpless all over again. "And now, instead of just being helpless, now I have to _listen_ to it."

Suddenly, it felt like someone was hammering on his brain. "_Draco? I can hear your voice. I'm imagining it, I realize, but just, oh God, just keep talking to me." _She was reaching out to him. She could _hear _him.

"Mina…you're not imagining it. I can hear you too. I'm here; for real."

He swore he heard a sob. "_It can't be…you're a million miles away…it's just my mind playing cruel tricks on me. I'm all alone…no one will ever find me." _

"Mina, god dammit, listen to me! It's Draco—alive, real—I'm here. And I'm trying to find you. I need you to tell me where you are so I can help you. McGonnagal and Dumbledore and Snape and all of them…they're trying to find you too…so we can bring you home. You want to go home, don't you?"

_"(…) Draco?"_

He grinned. "Yes, baby, it's me. Do you believe me?"

_"Oh Draco, I'm so scared. Is there someone there with you? A Professor? Please say yes…oh please…"_

"McGonnagal is here." The woman in question removed her hand from Draco's temple and raised her eyebrows. "Yes, McGonnagal, I'm talking to her. And it's amazing; but she wants to talk to you."

_"Tell her…tell her that I'm a Lych and that Gabriel knows." _

Draco relayed the message, confused. McGonnagal cursed foully. "She's a Lych? That's not a good thing, Draco. It means, when threatened, she takes the form of a creature she has seen and/or studied. I don't know why I didn't think about this before. Miss Granger is a perfect candidate for the gift. But if Gabriel knows, it could end very badly. There are ways to trap Lyches in one of their Demon forms. If Gabriel does that, Hermione could be beyond our help." She rubbed her neck, tiredly. "What form is she in now?"

"What form are you in, Mina?"

"_I'm a…a Void Demon." _

* * *

His voice was like sweet salvation, dripping through her system like the strongest narcotic. She wrapped herself in it, completely absorbed, before responding, because she knew that, after her admission, he wouldn't have anything to say.

"I'm a…a Void Demon."

She glanced around. She didn't even trust the foliage in this damned place. She had almost made it to the outer gate of the mansion when she had seen it. It had peeled off one of the trees—a shadow. She hadn't even sensed its presence. And it scared her more than anything else in this mansion—even Gabriel. She glanced around, staring at her own shadow for a full minute. Could it do that? Could it take over her shadow?

"_Mina, you need to get out of there. You're very vulnerable in your current form. According to McGonnagal, Gabriel, as a Void Demon, can use his form against yours—like pheromones. Your current form would be powerless to exist. You can't let him find you as you are now. You need to change into something else"_

"I can't do it on a whim, Draco. It needs to be triggered."

There was a strange silence before his voice drifted back into his consciousness, carrying a calculated, sneering, rich-boy drawl she hadn't heard in years. _"I slept with Daphne Greengrass. How does that make you feel, Mudblood? You are so pathetic. I picked a brainless whore over you. You sicken me."_

Tears sprang to her eyes. He was so convincing. "Bastard." But, all the same, she felt her form begin to change. She blinked around. Her night vision was spectacular and, as her spine elongated and twisted, she admired the ability to see finally. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she examined her new form. She was decidedly animal. "I'm a Werewolf."

"_I'm so sorry. You know I didn't mean a word of it, Mina. I just had to get you to change." _He sounded like he was crying. He probably was.

"Draco, don't cry; I still love you. I know why you did it."

_"I love you so much, Mina; don't ever doubt that."_

"My heart doesn't; but my brain still remembers the old you. And that voice just brought it back." She laughed lightly. "Sorry for calling you a bastard."

_"It certainly brought back memories."_

"Ferret just didn't seem nasty enough."

_"It isn't; it's almost a pet name now."_

Her heart clenched. Gods, how she missed him. "Draco? If I don't make it, I want you to find someone else…someone new. Those other girls…they're not good enough."

His voice was harder when he answered her. _"You're going to make it. We're going to get married some day…have a ton of little blonde, curly haired, intelligent babies. And we'll grow old, watch them pop out some babies…and then we'll die together…in each other's arms. You have no choice. I'm going to make sure it happens. And you know how stubborn I am."_

She was crying—dark sobs that turned into howls in her canine mouth. "Yes I know…almost as stubborn as I am." She sniffled. "I want to marry you Draco Malfoy."

_"Then you're going to have to make it, Mina…so I can ask you properly."_

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Okay…" It was all she could say to him. New resolve filled her but it caught in her throat. There were no more words.

_"Now, you need to tell me where you are so I can find you."_

She glanced around. "I don't recognize any of it, Draco. We're in the woods someplace. There's a huge mansion that belongs to Gabriel, but it's cloaked in Dryad magic. I can't break the seal. I've tried. There's a gate at the front. Past the gate is a series of hills with a little town at the bottom. There's no electricity in the town—so it's either magical or Amish. It's very green here—a lot greener than England. It seems almost familiar…" The words caught in her throat as it dawned on her.

"_Mina? Are you still there?"_

She swallowed thickly. "I'm outside Kilkenny. I can see the castle. Draco…I'm in Ireland!" A grin claimed her mouth. It looks sickly with canine teeth, but she didn't care. "I'm outside Kilkenny, Ireland! I've been here before! I recognize it!"

_"Are you sure? Completely?"_

"Completely! My parents used to take us here every summer!"

_"We're coming for you. Try to get to the town, Mina. We're coming."_

A rustle in the bushes had her running. "It's after me, Draco…you have to hurry. I can't stay still for very long. The shadow will find me."

"_We'll hurry. I'm going to find you Mina. And when I do, I'm going to snog you senseless. Then I'm going to propose. You better be ready."_

She sobbed as she ran. "I'm waiting; just hurry."

And then his voice was gone—the connection broken. And the fear of the situation entrapped her once again.

* * *

Chapter Ten is UP! I'm moving faster now. Aren't you all proud?

R&R


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